


How to Save a Life

by hypertensivehitachiins



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Family Dynamics, Incest, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Narcolepsy, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Sleep, Sleep Sex, Sleeping Together, Teen Angst, Twincest, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 96,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypertensivehitachiins/pseuds/hypertensivehitachiins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When things go wrong between the twins, Kyouya tries to save a friend but finds himself unraveling. [NOTE: I am working on an update to this. I promise, I'm close. I may even post multiple chapters, but real life is difficult.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> 1) The condition that Kaoru is described as having is known as sleep paralysis. In many people, it is associated with nightmares, but for Kaoru this is not the case until... well.
> 
> 2) I realize this fic may bring up sensitive topics. I will try my best to do them justice, and portray everything in a realistic and respectful manner.

"I'm coming home. I hope you're there. The day will break and I'll break too, into a million pieces - for you to come and find me and put me back together again." --sakeui @ tumblr

...

Kaoru always fell asleep last, so Hikaru did not know about it, but whenever the younger twin dozed off, his body would succumb to sleep before his brain did. He could never pinpoint the exact moment, but sooner or later, he would try to move and find himself unable to do so. At first, it was unsettling, but as time went on he only came to find it odd - though not unpleasant - to lie there locked into his body, and yet remain perfectly conscious of the drip-drip of a faucet in the ensuite bathroom, of his brother's weight against his body, and of the resting electronics breathing and blinking in the darkness. In the end, it was not until he caught himself wondering why he was walking through the streets of Paris with an elephant parading past that he would realize he was asleep.

The twins were Together - unofficially of course, and so his brother would visit him almost nightly. They did not talk about it, but then again they did not need to. Almost everything that was Kaoru's was Hikaru's, and what was Hikaru's was Kaoru's. That was the way it had always been, so it came as no surprise when they were laughing about something under the covers one day, and Hikaru had moved closer towards him, put his hand on his waist, and drawn him in. He had then put three fingers on his chin as he did at the Host Club, but leaned in to kiss him for real, and Kaoru did not remember it feeling wrong at the time - in fact, it felt very nice, his brother's mouth warm and insistent against his. It was a perfect resolution to a yen that had been there all along, and had both found a name and vanished the moment his brother's lips landed on his.

After that day, they were inseparable - not that they had not been until then, but now they were an item that way, too: brushing hands in class even as their Host Club performances grew more authentic, entwining fingers in the car, and Kaoru pulling up his knees and cuddling in close as they watched TV. As time went on and they grew closer, Hikaru took up trying to roll over on top of Kaoru, pushing his thigh up between his legs and grinding against his middle. And Kaoru would always enjoy it and push back, and from time to time they would open up their pants and help each other. But Kaoru would always stop his brother before things went too far, figuring it would not do because the whole thing had an expiration date. Hikaru would always look a little annoyed after he did, but then again you could not expect to have an ever-after with your twin, and Hikaru was probably not thinking that far ahead either. Indeed, if they did take that step it was sure to make things messy. No, Kaoru much preferred a Schrodinger's relationship that both was and wasn't. Not that he knew much about breaking up or moving on, but he figured it would be harder to regret what never was in the first place.

Sometimes, retiring with Hikaru at his side was a natural conclusion to the day's events. The conversation would drag, and eventually they would put aside their books and game consoles and gravitate to the bed. At other times, he would come to Hikaru - or Hikaru would come to him - after the rest of the house had gone to sleep, and their hands would find each other in the darkness. That night, Kaoru lay in his room with the lights off, the smell of lavender tickling the insides of his lungs as he waited for his brother, and he had almost begun to worry when the door creaked open, revealing Hikaru's fox-faced profile in the light of the hallway. Kaoru sighed and closed his eyes, for the lead had already begun to accumulate in his limbs, and sure enough, a moment later the covers rustled, the bed frame squeaked, and his brother's warmth was all around him and his lips were against his - soft yet turgid, and as always not taking no for an answer. Indeed, this time the lips were even more persistent than usual, and smelled of something as heady and sweet as it was and harsh and stifling -

Hikaru, have you -

But he could not move his lips.

No. No. Oh, God no.

He was locked in.

But - but no. It was alright. It would be alright. He would manage. After all, Hikaru would probably kiss him messily for a few minutes and drop off to sleep, at which point…

Kaoru felt his chest collapse like a sail stripped of its wind. Hikaru's hand had balled around his wrist and pressed it, hard, into the mattress.

"Kaoru - " He heard his brother whisper hotly in his ear. Somehow, Hikaru was not slurring his speech, but his very words throbbed. "I want to fuck you… Please… I want at least one good thing to happen to me today."

Hikaru drank. And Kaoru knew he drank. Jack Daniels, Armagnac from France, Umeshu, Vodka. Anything a fifteen-year-old could get his hands on after his parents' parties. It made him feel happy - like a cartoon, he said, though sometimes "happy" translated into loudly ranting about all his so-called accomplishments, as well as his haters, only to drop off snoring minutes later. And while Kaoru did not exactly approve, he would have been lying if he did not admit to partaking as well. Once, they had even kissed while at it, rolling the bubblegum-grape flavor of the Grand Marnier back and forth with their tongues. That time, Hikaru had somehow ended up on top of him, and had sucked his neck so hard that Kaoru had to claim he was revisiting his scarf phase the next day. And more than that, it was much harder than usual to pry Hikaru's hands away after the Grand Marnier ran out and he began insisting they "take it to the next level."

But Hikaru had never before touched liquor on a school night before - and, granted, Kaoru had not seen much of his brother that day. It was Sunday, and for Hikaru the day had begun with a stern talking-to about his future and his latest report card, followed by a colonoscopy of a discussion with a series of tutors about what should be done next. Kaoru, thankfully, had been excluded, for he had always been better at dotting his eyes and crossing his t's. But Hikaru had still been in a foul mood for the rest of the day, and had made himself scarce, brushing off his brother's attempts to make him feel better. At first, the younger twin tried not to let it worry him. After all, Hikaru had a way of storming off and sulking, only to return a few hours later as if nothing had happened.

But not this time. Hikaru was just as angry and hurt as he had been, if not more so, his fingers digging into Kaoru's body as if clawing away at his own pain. In fact, he had thrown his entire weight on top of him, pressing his hard knob against his hips as his mouth bit into the younger twin's neck, sucking in a rough mouthful.

"Kaoru," he growled, pulling at his waistband, "Don't be a little bitch. I love you - just let me fuck you. Let me fuck that sweet little ass. I know you want it."

By that time, Kaoru did not know if it was the sleep paralysis or the sheer terror, but as he tried to struggle, for all the good it did him his bones might have been so brittle that they splintered from the force of his own muscles.

In truth, he might not have been averse. There was something desperately sad in his brother's voice, rough and hungry as it was. Kaoru loved his brother, and he might not have minded the sacrifice. He might even have wanted it, and would have only been too happy to stroke away the pain, if not for -

Hikaru must have taken Kaoru's inability to move for consent, and was rummaging through his pocket, straddling him with a hand firmly on his chest. But that, Kaoru was fairly certain, was not the only reason he felt his ribcage collapse more and more as he struggled for breath. The darkness turned into serpents, undulating from the corners of the canopy above the bed. The room was cavernous, dark and deep, and the bed seemed to stretch on forever. The lavender continued to mix with the sickly sweetness of the alcohol and grew stronger, covering his mouth and nose like a rag soaked in ether.

No. Not like this - he wanted to sob. For the love of all that is good and holy. Not like this.

But his voice was still gone. In any other circumstance, Kaoru might have panicked, for the paralysis was lasting longer than normal. But Hikaru had thrown the covers aside and sat back on his haunches, and while Kaoru could not see what he was doing, it was not too hard to guess. In spite of himself, Kaoru felt a hollow, anxious tightness swell between his hips, and closed his eyes. In the darkness, he could not see his brother's face anyway, but it was better this way. His chest had been breaking with paralyzed sobs and screams, but now it just felt empty. His bones were still brittle, and for a moment he thought that if he could not get his strength back he would simply lie still and wait for it to be over. Hikaru was drunk and sad - which meant he did not know what he was doing. And that only meant that he, Kaoru, would have to manage just as he always did.

Kaoru felt something cold drip down his privates, and then his legs were pushed up and to either side, limp as a marionette's.

"Oh, fuck, Kaoru… So good… So submissive. So sexy," he heard his brother's voice swelling with lust. "Such a sweet little hole."

A shiver ran up his thighs as he felt Hikaru brush up against him. Then his brother pushed forward and Kaoru let out a scream, arching his spine like a nymph with a broken back.

Of course. Of course. This is what it would take - it was almost too predictable.

"S - St - Oh, fu -" Kaoru gasped, strapped for air. His muscles were back, his bones were back, his every fiber was a live, galvanic thread. He tried to thrash, but Hikaru held him, both his hands on his legs and his body weight on top.

"Oh, come on, Kaoru, you're not going to back out now, are you? After you've got me this hard, you little sex-pixie?"

The pain in the younger twin's chest grew, swelling and filling his lungs like that much water, but it could not have compared to the pain down there. Kaoru squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, and tried to master the anger and the despair rising inside him. He had not wanted to define things - that was true. But he would have been lying if he said he had not thought about it - had not fantasized about it, usually in the context of a walk and a kiss, and then a flower-meadow and a sunset. Well, he got his flower-meadow, laced with the deathly stench of opium-poppy, and as he closed his eyes a tear slid down his temple.

"Oh, fuck, Kaoru, you feel so good."

Hikaru had begun to move, wrapping his arms tighter around him and suckling on another mouthful of neck. The pain intensified. Kaoru tried to resist, another spasm rocking his chest as he dug his fingers into his brother's back, but Hikaru seemed to have no concept of what he was doing, and rammed back and forth as if his goal really was to mince flesh. Seconds passed. Kaoru suddenly felt cold, and wanted to vomit.

And yet, Hikaru clearly enjoying himself. Moaning and arching his back as he thrust, his muscles undulating under his skin, he kissed up and down Kaoru's neck, and it really did seem like he was stroking away whatever pain he had been feeling. His gasps still sounded like sobs, but as he shuddered with each stroke, Hikaru seemed to have become all body. Which was well and good, Kaoru thought as he gritted his teeth, imagining himself floating under the ceiling and watching his brother's white sliver of a back in the darkness. At first, he did not think he would be able to bear it, but stepping outside his body helped. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could even imagine Hikaru was with someone else instead of him. It would still hurt, but not nearly as much.

Just a little more.

The darkness hung close around them, thick and lavender-soaked, and Kaoru wished he could hold his breath until everything turned blacker than the blackest black.

Any time now.

With a cry, Hikaru heaved one last time, and Kaoru knew it was over. He drew a ragged breath as his brother collapsed on top of him. It still hurt, but only as much as a mosquito bite after being drawn and quartered.

You may come back yet - he heard a voice. Your body may still be salvageable.

But did he want to? Salvageable or not, his body was disgusting to him now - no better than rotting flesh amid the wet sheets.

Daybreak came and shattered into a million pieces over the floor, but Kaoru Hitachiin had not slept, nor could he be sure that he would ever sleep again.


	2. Morning

Hikaru always woke early after drinking, and that day in particular, his mind instantly came online as his eyes drifted open. The sun was ricocheting off the walls, splintering as it bounced off the blonde wooden floors and into the mirror in the corner. The recesses of the canopy above the bed were the only sanctuary the darkness had left. 

Kaoru lay on his side on the edge of the bed, his face turned away and the sheet pulled tightly around his body. Hikaru propped himself up on his elbow, and felt a ripple of nausea.

He had only a vague recollection of what happened the night before. He thought they had sex, and the rubber still partway in place corroborated the fact. But he could not remember finishing -- or what, if anything, had happened after after that. Which was too bad -- he would have liked to remember more of his first time. And, looking back, he definitely could have done more to make his brother at ease, for Kaoru had not moved much the whole time, having probably been petrified on account of a bottom's first time being a harrowing-enough experience under the best of circumstances.

Kaoru's side rose and fell rhythmically, and slightly more deliberately than it would have if he were asleep. Hikaru shifted toward him, and put a hand on his waist.

"Hey. Kaoru," he whispered.

But Kaoru did not turn around, and continued to breathe slowly in and out. 

"I was an ass last night, I'm sorry, I --"

No answer. 

Hikaru sat up, pulling the rubber off himself under the covers. He tried to peer over his brother's shoulder, but Kaoru covered his face with his forearms. 

"Kaoru, come on."

Hikaru reached over to run a hand over his brother's hip, slender and etched against the sunlight. But Kaoru recoiled -- shifting away so forcefully he nearly tumbled off the side of the bed.

Hikaru's breath lodged in his throat, like Napoleon under a Russian snowdrift. Kaoru was not usually given to herky-jerky movements. The older twin scrambled to the foot of the bed, rummaging for his pants. Having found them, he pulled them on leaped out of bed, hurrying to the other side to squat at eye level with his brother.

"Kaoru, talk to me. Please."

Kaoru's hands were still over his face, and when Hikaru tried to peel them away, he pulled back violently and buried his face in the pillow.

Hikaru felt a cold terror slide down to his stomach. Kaoru had not moved or done much, but if he had not wanted it, if it had been too much, surely he would have tried to spot him? Maybe Kaoru had been too scared, but why would he be afraid of him, a drunken fool? It had hurt when Hikaru put it in, that much was obvious, and Kaoru had thrashed around a bit. But that was to be expected, wasn't it? A reflex, of sorts, right? And -- oh, God…

"You're not going to back out now, are you? After you've got me this hard, you little sex pixie?"

"Good morning, young masters" -- two nearly identical voices chimed over his shoulder.

Oh, fuck, no.

"Not now, Satomi," -- Hikaru gritted his teeth, trying to stay his breath. "Can't you see we've got a -- a situation here?"

"Your mother wanted to make sure you were down for breakfast on time. She does not want you to be late for school," said the slightly lower of the two voices, crisp as freshly pressed linen. The twins, as was perhaps to be expected, had twin maids, whose voices also different by about half an octave. 

"Will there be any special requests this morning?" -- added the other voice.

Kaoru had pulled his knees up to his chest and yanked the sheet over his face, and the maids looked at him with well-cultivated compassion. The panic had descended to the very pit of Hikaru's stomach, and was threatening to uncoil with the force of a striking cobra.

"K-Kaoru's not feeling well," he whispered, biting his lips. "I think he needs to stay home from school today."

…

"Oh, hell, no." Yuzuha threw down her napkin, only to retrieve it and dab quickly at her lips. "First you're failing half your subjects, skipping classes right and left, releasing chickens into the school cafeteria -- and now Kaoru won't go to school, either?!"

Her husband glanced up from the paper, and appeared to decide, after a moment, not to comment. Twenty years had taught him that much. When his wife was in a tizzy -- which was always -- silence was by far the best course of action.

"Mom, please, he really isn't feeling well."

"We'll see about that." 

Yuzuha swept up out of her seat, clasping her morning-robe at her chest and waving away the woman behind her who had been struggling to get her auburn-rich locks to obey a series of pins and clasps. Given her place in the world, not multi-tasking was not an option for Yuzuha Hitachiin.

Hikaru sunk deeper into his chair, and poked his eggs Benedict. The starch on his collar was irritating his neck, the sun was still too bright, and from the moment the maids showed up -- clearly with orders to watch Hikaru like hawks and march him downstairs directly -- there had been no time to get a better sense of how bad things things really were, and it would take to fix them. The younger twin had remained huddled up under the sheets, his face pressed into the pillow, and Hikaru had not been able to get his hands to stop shaking. Indeed, he could barely button his own shirt, much less do more than push his yolk-soaked bacon around the plate.

Yuzuha disappeared with a slam of the door that rustled the curtains, and marched up the stairs. She had never been a well-balanced woman, and as the years went on it only got worse. She hid it well under a reputation for a harsh tongue and unwavering opinions, but the fact remained -- it took her nearly a handful of pills to get to sleep every night, and a day when she merely felt on the verge of splintering instead of actually doing so was a good day.

The room was silent, the leaves of the ikebana arrangement in the elephant vase twitching in the dappled sunlight. A swatch of red hair between the pillows on the far side of the bed was all that betrayed her son's presence, and she crossed the room and squatted at his side.

"Kaoru. Honey."

Kaoru's face was buried in his pillows, and he did not move as she reached to run her fingers through his hair.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

There was no answer. Kaoru's back rose and fell rhythmically, and his temple felt cool.

"Where does it hurt, honey? Is it your head?" Goodness knew, she herself got enough headaches, and while Kaoru never complained, he was a lot like her -- a worrier. 

Kaoru let out a breath and wheezed softly, shaking his head into the pillow.

"Is it your stomach? Do I need to call the doctor?"

Kaoru shook his head, more vigorously this time. Yuzuha sighed.

"Koaru, please. Please be good for mommy. You've always been the good one. I can't do this without you." She put her hand on his shoulder. "I don't want you to start having problems in school, too. Please, just try. For me?"

…

Kaoru sat in class, staring out the window. Outside, the cherry trees had shed the last of their pink froth, and the branches flowed in a stream of wind like the long bodies of carp. He had dragged himself out of bed and stood in the shower for what felt like ages, having set the water to run hot and cold by turns. But it had not washed anything away. In fact, it seemed to be in a great hurry to get away from him, pooling around the drain as it did. He had not looked at Hikaru much in the car, or afterwards. He simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

He figured he needed something or someone -- help of some kind, but he wasn't sure what kind. Hikaru was his brother, after all, so going to the authorities was not an option. Even if he did, it would not solve anything. It would not get him his brother back. 

What did he need? He did not know. Perhaps to close his eyes and fade away. To split apart into a thousand pieces and have the wind carry them away, one by one. 

All his life, he and Hikaru had been together. They had been each other's everything -- and shared everything they had. Kaoru knew Hikaru had a wild side. He even loved him for it, because it meant his brother did things Kaoru never dared attempt. And he also knew Hikaru had a cruel side. But what had happened that night was not like burning ants with a magnifying glass on the pavement. It wasn't like giving a girl an ultimatum to tell the twins apart if she wanted to go out with one of them, only to laugh in her face when she got it wrong.

The second hand swept round and round the clock. The teacher was explaining something, pointing here and there at the board. The sound of her heels glanced off the vaulted ceiling, but the front of the room felt like it was thousands of miles away. Kaoru felt dizzy, and like someone was cutting away at his innards with very small scissors. Hikaru sat by his side. He could hear his breathing, and it made him feel ill. He tried to focus his eyes on the map above the board. Usually, if he felt less than engaged in school, at the very least he could watch the minutes trickle by and wait for class to be over. He like to make things, and always had a project or two waiting for him when he got home. But it was not as if going home would change anything that day. He also liked to look at his favorite map on the wall, imagining himself as Magellan circumnavigating the globe. He had a long list of places he wanted to visit. But as Kaoru looked at the map it began to grow bigger, and suddenly the continents became heavy and the seas began to wrap around the room like giant paper arms.

"Hitachiin, what are you doing up?"

Kaoru must have stood up without realizing it, for the teacher had paused in her lecture and was looking at him quizzically over her glasses. So were were a few students around him.

"I -- I don't feel good."

"You feel sick?"

"Y-yes, ma'am."

His heart and lungs were starting to feel too big for his chest, and his head felt like it was about to pop off and go zooming away at mach speeds. He must have looked suitably pale, too, and both twins had been uncommonly subdued that day, so the teacher sighed and waved her hand.

"Alright, go to the nurse, then. And stop interrupting the lesson."

…

The sun was pouring in, blindingly bright, through the arches of the colonnade. Kaoru walked along, his feet carrying him on autopilot. He had been to the nurse's office, and the motherly woman has taken his vitals. She had puffy, gently-calloused hands, and something about them make Kaoru think of a milkmaid -- not that he had ever met one. Still, he could not even bring himself to tell her where it hurt, much less tell her what happened. She looked so kind, after all -- as if she had three grown children and lived in a small house with lots of hanging plants and fed the neighborhood cats on the way to work. He did not want her opinion of him to change. As a consequence, she seemed to have taken him for someone who was simply having a bad day, or wanted to get away from bullies, and offered him a bed in the infirmary to sleep it off. He lay under the crisp, freshly ironed covers, breathing in the smell of flannel, but he had not been able to fall asleep. Being the only one there made him uncomfortable, and the light beamed full-force through the tall French windows, paying no mind to the drapes. So he got up and thanked the woman, and said he wanted to walk around a bit and get some fresh air. As he left, the nurse smiled at him and said that if he wanted to talk to someone, the school psychologist was always there, and her own door was always open. But Kaoru knew the school psychologist, and he knew that the small balding man with the watery-blue eyes and twitchy fingers had an entire drawer dedicated to the Hitachiin twins. Indeed, the man always acted like he was their friend, but Kaoru knew he wasn't. And he couldn't blame him -- anyone who read the Hitachiin file probably needed a handful of Xanax to fall asleep at night, and the last thing Kaoru wanted to do was add to it. Every adult he could think of was on his and Hikaru's case already, and sometimes all he wanted was to feel normal -- and unnoticed.

It was an uncommonly cool day for late spring, and the air was biting at the insides of his airways, snapping him awake when for all the impetus he had to keep going, he might have lay down on the tiles and closed his eyes. He had not had a crumb in his stomach all day, but his nausea only intensified. It was just past lunch hour, and students were hurrying back to their classes, many having eaten outdoors despite the drop in temperature. Kaoru was only looking underfoot, and so when he bumped into another boy he at first did not realize who it was, and was about to hurry along with a mumbled apology when the latter caught him by the arm.

"Kaoru?"

It was Kyouya. Calm and cool, not a hair out of place, and smelling of something clean in the vein of Issey Miyake, the vice-president and CFO of the Host Club was a year above the twins in school, and Kaoru had not seen him since the previous Friday. 

"Oh, Kyouya-senpai… I'm so sorry, I just..."

Kyouya nodded. "It's alright. But you should watch where you're headed. You could trip over someone."

Kaoru looked down. "I -- okay. Er --"

Kyouya did not look like he had more to say, but he seemed to have noticed something was amiss, for he was still holding on to Kaoru's upper arm, his eyes the picture-perfect color of blank slate.

"Er, Kyouya-senpai, can I -- Can I talk to you about something?"

"Yes, Kaoru, of course. But --" Kyouya turned his head slightly, casting a searching glance at him -- "It looks like you might need more time than we have right now. Maybe it would be better to wait until after school?"

"I -- no. I won't be coming to Host Club anymore."

Kyouya raised his eyebrows. "No?"

"Uh, yes. I -- I mean, yes, that's right. But… I guess that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh. Alright." Kyouya's façade betrayed the tiniest shade of relief. True, it was not what he had expected -- Kaoru looked far too much like he had seen a ghost, witnessed his family get butchered, and been told he had cancer all in the same hour for Kyouya to have guessed that it had anything to do with their mutual hobby. But, for what it was worth, at least Kaoru's problem seemed to be within his area of expertise. "Is something the matter?" Kyouya ventured. "Are you not getting along with someone?"

"Uh… N-no. It's just that --" Hitherto, the younger Hitachiin had simply looked constipated as he alternated between avoiding Kyouya's eyes and scrutinizing the floor. But suddenly he looked nothing short of pained, like a child who had been forcibly separated from a trinket he waited all year to receive. "I can't do the incestuous twin act anymore."

"Oh. I see. Well, that's alright. You shouldn't do anything you're uncomfortable with."

The younger looked down again, pressing his fingers painfully into his palms. The wind was rising -- that much Kyouya could feel on the nape of his own neck. The last of the stragglers rushed past to get to class, their cries echoing, and Kyouya heard a noise not unlike someone getting knocked over and the contents of a backpack spilling all over the floor. 

"So there's no need to worry," he added with a soft smile. "You will be missed, but…"

But there was more, wasn't there? Of course there was more. Kaoru, much like himself, was still water that ran deep, but Kyouya found it much more effective to play the sounding-board than to ask too many questions.

"It's not as if at this point we'll all stop being friends, Kaoru."

Kaoru nodded slowly. Kyouya waited, focusing his eyes on the curve of the twin's neck where it met the rumpled, half-closed collar. That way, when Kaoru raised his eyes their lines of sight would meet. The peach-colored fuzz at the nape of the twin's neck glowed in silhouette, and it was an inconvenient place to look, since it had always been the line of the younger twin's neck that invariably sent Kyouya's mind on a wild romp through boudoirs,and messily strewn sheets. But in the moment, it would have to do, for it was his general experience that people did not like to be looked at directly, but it was still effective to keep one's eyes in the general vicinity of the face. He was still holding on to Kaoru's sleeve, he realized, and considered letting go, but instead settled for letting his hand slide down his arm. The twin was shivering under his jacket, and Kyouya suspected it was not just from the cold.

Kaoru licked his lips, which had grown chapped.

"Kyouya-senpai, I…"

…

"Kyouya-senpai, where are you going?!"

Kyouya Ootori walked down the hall like a man possessed. Kaoru ran after him, barely keeping up, but the older boy ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. 

Kyouya was not among the faint-hearted, and he had long guessed that there was more to the twins' relationship than met the eye. But it still took everything he had not to cough up the entire contents of his stomach when he heard. He saw his own horror reflect in Kaoru's face -- and it was a miracle he merely managed to tighten his grasp on Kaoru's sleeve instead of pulling him into a hug tight enough to crush his spine.

"I'm going to find that bastard and let him know what I think, right here and right now."

"Kyouya-senpai, I don't think that's a good idea --"

But Kyouya walked on, his jaw clamped shut and his hands balled into fists, his every fiber trained on keeping himself from spinning around, seizing Kaoru by the collar and yelling in his face that he did not care, that it did not matter, that if only he knew --

The fact that the twins were allegedly Together -- that he could have stomached. During the twins' performances at the club he was always torn between looking and looking away -- his feeling akin to pleasure from twisting a knife. In particular, the ambiguity that the twins played up to such acclaim had come to be his saving grace, for in a world of unsourced and misattributed information Kyouya had learned to hold no regard for appearances. If he had no firsthand proof, it was not true -- it was as simple as that. And even if it was, Hikaru was an even bigger airhead than Tamaki, and even steadfast little Kaoru, who let his brother drag him around like a mad dog on a leash, would surely grow tired of it eventually -- for if he himself knew how to call out and shut down his best friend, Kaoru had never had the same degree of control over Hikaru. 

When the initial wave of shock settled, his first thought was that he now had his chance. But the image of Kaoru's prone form, unable to move and being desecrated made everything bleed red. He was not stupid. He knew people who got raped did not just end up falling into bed with their rescuer several scenes later. No, Hikaru had not just robbed Kaoru of his first time -- he had robbed the world of Kaoru. 

To quell his feelings, Kyouya tried to ask Kaoru what he needed right then, but Kaoru said he did not know. Then Kyouya asked if Kaoru wanted to see Hikaru get in trouble, but the twin replied in the negative. He asked if he had told anybody else, and Kaoru shook his head. He finally inquired if Kaoru was afraid to face his brother again, and Kaoru said he wasn't sure. After that, Kaoru's answers became less and less like words, and eventually he stopped responding altogether, slumping against a wall with a fist in his mouth. That was when Kyouya started to want to punch something, and it also was when he decided to take matters into his own hands. The first order of business was to take Kaoru out of the situation and keep a close eye on him. That way, he could better assess the damage. But before that he would have to get Hikaru out of the way, and for that he would have to show him that he was fluent in Crazy Bastard.

They had left the colonnade, and their footsteps echoed up and down the marble walls of the hallway. They had climbed to the second floor, Kyouya measuring the steps in leaps of three or four, and came to a stop at the end of the main wing. Given where they were in the semester, Kyouya had long memorized the Host Club members' class schedules. Kaoru paused a few steps behind, an uncertain look on his face, and pressed his thighs together. Kyouya rolled his shoulders, drew a breath, and reached for the doorknob.

"Pardon me" -- he flashed his best model-student smile at the teacher, a youngish woman he knew from his previous year. "I'm so sorry for the intrusion, but I have a message for Hitachiin. He's wanted in the dean's office -- family business."

"Hikaru Hitachiin, I assume?" The teacher asked, turning her head. Her voice and the stucco-encrusted areas under her eyes betrayed a sleepless night. "Because Kaoru Hitachiin, from what I hear, is in the infirmary for the day."

"Yes, Hikaru Hitachiin." Kyouya let his lips spread into a smile, and nodded at Hikaru, who had begun to get out of his seat. "I was told he can bring his things" -- he nodded at the book bag hanging off the side of the desk.

Hikaru got up, a bit shakily, and threw his bag over his shoulder. Kyouya watched him walk down the aisle between the rows of desks. It looked like the older Hitachiin had an inkling of what the "family business" was, for he kept his eyes down as he walked. Kyouya felt his lips curl into a smile -- which he quickly flattened into his usual reserved, unruffled expression. He held the door open for Hikaru and waited for it to shut behind them, and when it did, Hikaru's eyes had just enough time to fall on his twin -- whose back slumped visibly upon his brother's emergence -- when he felt a hand on his collar and Kyouya's face was suddenly inches away from his, its expression enough to make the Hypotensive Overlord that the Vice President became after a poor night's sleep look like a playful kitten.

"Alright, you bastard, you listen to me --"

"Kyouya-senpai, what the he--?!"

But Kyouya's hand tightened around his collar, choking out his voice mid-word. 

"You know EXACTLY 'what the hell'," Kyouya hissed, "So here's what's going to happen. Kaoru's going to come with me, and you're not going to do a thing about it if you don't want me to tell EVERYONE what you did, including the authorities. And if you think I'll stop at that --" He twisted the collar tighter.

Hikaru tried to thrash. "I didn't mean to -- I'm sorry" -- he managed to force out -- but a fist met his stomach with such force that the wind flew out of him along with half his lunch, and only a violent fit of coughing stopped the sirloin and potatoes from sticking in his throat.

"Wanna deny it again?!" 

"What is happening here?!"

The door flew open. The youngish teacher with bedraggled eyes stood on the threshold.

Perfect. 

Hikaru, like everyone else, was probably convinced that there were certain things Kyouya would never do – that he would never risk getting in trouble for. But that was the idea. People feared most what they could not predict.

The woman gasped, and somebody screamed. Kyouya broke eye contact with Hikaru just long enough to register that the teacher had passed out, and several students had jumped up to see what what was the matter.

Doors began to swing open up and down the hall, and Kyouya heard teachers barking at students to get back in their classrooms. He slackened his hold on Hikaru's collar and gave him a shove. The twin stumbled backwards, and Kyouya began to laugh, and the laugh of Mephistopheles himself could not have packed more mirth.

…

"This… this is completely inadmissible!" The man in the large armchair clapped his hand so hard on the table, for all anyone knew it might have been at fault for the proceedings instead of the two boys in front of him. "You especially, Ootori. A model student, class representative -- I'd expect this from anyone but you. And abusing your authority like that!"

The dust hovered, like tiny white gnats, in the light from the tall window and Kyouya stood before the principal's desk, his head hung in a perfect picture of shame. Hikaru stood by his side, looking markedly less apologetic -- whereas Kaoru, as the witness, had been asked to take a seat on a chair off to the side where Kyouya could not see him.

"I am sorry," the third Ootori son said stolidly, speaking -- from the looks of it -- to the laces of his Oxfords. "I lost control, and acted in a way unbecoming of the trust you've placed in me. It won't happen again."

"Dispicable," the principal spat. "Might I ask what prompted such behavior?"

"That I am not at liberty to divulge, sir," Kyouya replied.

"Not at liberty to divulge?!"

"No, sir. I got involved because I could not remain indifferent, but it is a private matter between the twins, so it is not my place to tell anyone else."

"Could not remain indifferent! Hah! Two known troublemakers have a spat, and you allow yourself to get dragged into it?"

"Not exactly, sir. I would not describe it as a spat, it has nothing to do with their past history, and no one dragged me into it. I acted entirely on my own initiative, and I acted wrong, so I will accept whatever punishment you see fit."

The principle gave a ponderous sigh. He was not a patient man, and rather given to indigestion to boot. He had also just found out his wife was leaving him, and on top of that, the board of trustees could not come to a decision on the year's budget, all the people who had him in their pockets wanted contradictory things, and a rogue group of middle schoolers was getting more and more inventive when it came to academic dishonesty. He had not even had lunch yet, and the youngest Ootori with his calm reptilian eyes and cursory, painfully polite answers was enough to drive him up the wall and halfway across the ceiling. And the Hitachiin, too -- whichever one he was -- looked so smug that the principal wanted to wring his scrawny little aristocratic neck.

"Fine," he heaved a dyspeptic breath, puffing out his cheeks. "You're lucky I've no time for this right now." He paused, shaking his head again. Who would have thought. Dealing with the well-mannered offspring of the upper crust was more frustrating than with the ordinary lot. Somehow, the taste of future power, imbibed with their premium baby formulae, made them that much less afraid of authority. 

"Detention" -- he gestured severely first at the Class Representative and then at the Hitachiin, deploying his heaviest, most malachite-encrusted pen for the purpose. "For a month. Both of you. Ootori, you're stripped of your post as class representative, indefinitely. And if I see any more so-called good Samaritan antics out of you, I'll shut down your little club and I'll enjoy doing it."

…

Yoshio Ootori had always respected Yuzuha Hitachiin as a businesswoman. After all, in just under twenty years she had built a company up from scratch, and was now worth as much as her father, an IT mogul. But she was also the reason Ootori Senior was still skeptical of women in business as a concept, for in the parenting department Yuzuha had decidedly fallen short. Without either parent at home, her boys had grown up to be known troublemakers, their academic performance leaving much to be desired, and until Kyouya and the Suoh boy had involved them in an after-school club they had had problems fitting in, the older one being, reportedly, quite the bully.

Yoshio had spend the past hour trying very hard not to have a heart attack, and had just calmed down enough to pick up the phone when -- speak of the devil -- he saw Yuzuha's number flash up on the caller ID.

"Hello, Yuzuha," he said, pressing "talk" -- his tone none too pleased. In her social circles, Yuzuha went by her first name, her last name being synonymous with her brand. "I suppose you got the call from the principal too?"

"Yes," her voice was just as unimpressed. "And that's not even the worst of it. I've got all three of them here --"

"All THREE of them?" Yoshio nearly dropped the receiver. His son never skipped class unless he had a fever high enough to fry an egg. But then again, his son was also not the sort to get caught fighting with another boy on school grounds -- so perhaps there was a first time for everything.

"Yes. They came home at noon. Kaoru started packing his bags, and now Kyouya's saying that he thinks Kaoru should go live at your house for a while, get professional help, and maybe take a break from school for a while. And none of them will tell me what's really going on."

Yes, scoffed Yoshio to himself, because you're an appalling mother.

"To be honest, I'm at my wits' end," the younger woman went on. "I've got private fittings with clients all day, and first the younger one wouldn't go to school and now this. I really would appreciate any help at all, so maybe if you could--? After all, your children are all so well-behaved --"

Ootori sighed. Truthfully, it was not his problem. He did in fact have four children of his own, and hence he was not obligated. Besides, a club was one thing, but if he was a betting man, he would have put his money on the twins being nothing but a bad influence and advised Kyouya to keep away from them. But Yuzuha's voice stirred up something for which he could not remember the words. Whatever was going on in that house, it made not his concern, and yet, given his line of work, he could not exactly remain uninvolved.

"May I talk to my son, please?"

"Of course."

"Hello?" -- Yoshio heard Kyouya's voice, mild-mannered as always.

Ootori senior cleared his throat, doing his best to master the urge to reach across the communication lines and slap his son six ways til Sunday. Given the circumstances, Kyouya's calm, urbane cadence was about as irritating as being thumb-nosed by a child and not being able to do anything about it.

"Ahem, Kyouya?" 

"Yes, father?"

"We'll discuss the specific nature of your -- ahem -- actions later, but in the meantime do you mind telling me what exactly is going on that you felt the need to get involved?"

"I'm afraid I am not at liberty to say, father," Kyouya replied.

For the second time, Ootori nearly dropped the receiver. Was his son belatedly entering a rebellious phase? It was certainly not unlikely, considering how tight a leash he had kept him on until recently.

"It's a private matter on Kaoru's part, so it is not my place to share. Suffice it to say, though, I really do not think that his home is not a safe place for him right now."

"I see. And you simply decided to volunteer our house as an alternative."

"Well, I admit I should have asked first, and I'm sorry. But considering I might not be your favorite son right now, I thought it would be best if the request came from Mrs. Hitachiin."

Ah. Textbook. Well done, son. Well done. And it only took you sixteen years to learn how to play me. Ootori drew a breath and drummed his fingers on the leather covering of his desk. 

Whatever his son's other faults, he had never doubted Kyouya as a judge of character -- or situations. More than that, Kyouya had always had a knack for procuring insider information, and while he did not say it explicitly, one thing was abundantly clear. Beyond those directly involved Kyouya was the only one who did know, it was not a matter to be spread around lightly, and the support and advocacy of someone who had all the facts was paramount.

"Alright, I understand," he said. "But remind me, Kyouya, whose house do you live in?"

"Yours, father."

"Good. Kaoru Hitachiin can stay with us, but while he's here you will be your responsibility. If anything happens -- if there's any trouble at all, or if I see it impacting your schoolwork or your disciplinary record, that'll be the end, is that clear? Helping others is an admirable thing, but not at a detriment to your own well-being."

"Yes, father."

"Good, give the phone back to Mrs. Hitachiin."

Kyouya obeyed.

"Yuzuha?"

"Yes." The woman seemed to be breathing more easily.

"It's all settled. Kaoru can come as soon as convenient. Also, one of our hospitals here in town has a program for teens who are in a difficult place in their lives. It includes a comprehensive mental health evaluation and treatment if need be. There are also support groups and tutoring, since it's during school hours. I think Kaoru should take advantage of it, though you should probably also engage private tutors, since Ouran has a more intense program than most schools."

"Thank you, Ootori, thank you so much." Yuzuha sounded like she had lowered herself into a chair, and if she had not reached for a tissue, she would be needing one soon. "I'll cover any expense… You have no idea how much I owe you for this…" 

Ootori smiled.

"No need," he said. "This is between friends. Besides, we can always write it off, and I think there's something Kyouya can learn from all this, too."


	3. Fears

Kaoru sat on the couch in the Ootoris' foyer with his bags by his side. They had arrived shortly after one. Yoshio Ootori was working at home that day, and he had cast one look at Kaoru and told Kyouya he wanted to speak to him alone. Kyouya followed him to a room down the hall, and while Kaoru tried very hard not to listen he still thought he heard raised voices and a slap or two. 

In retrospect, Kaoru thought he ought to have done things a little differently. He had chosen to confide in Kyouya because the latter knew how to keep secrets, and indeed, the Shadow King had done well in maintaining that it wasn't his place to share what had transpired between the twins. But he still couldn't help but wonder whether everyone had guessed the truth regardless.

Still, he did not want to seem ungrateful, so he stood up quickly when Kyouya emerged. He searched his friend's face -- for the Chairman had not been above hitting Kyouya before the entire Host Club on one occasion -- but the Shadow King looked about as worse for wear as he'd just attended an outdoor luncheon.

"Well, that's done," he said, brushing his hands together. "I suppose there's still the matter of where we'll put you. We have two options --"

Kyouya paused, for Kaoru had suddenly gone back to looking stricken, and had lowered himself onto a pouf that doubled as a backless couch extension.

"Something the matter?"

"N-no…"

Kyouya lowered himself into a squat so the two of them were at eye level.

"I just – I was just thinking I probably shouldn't have brought you into this situation, senpai. It was... irresponsible of me --" 

Indeed, he really ought to have known better than to lob the interpersonal equivalent of a hand grenade into the middle of their friend group. Kyouya was stable enough most days, but even he couldn't have been expected to stomach the news without doing something rash. 

"Kaoru" -- Kyouya extended a hand, pausing midway. When Kaoru first told him, he had reached out to put a hand on his instinctively. But now he drew back, wondering if it would do more harm than good, and tried to make it look like he'd simply wanted to fix his glasses. "What's done is done," he said drily – after all, he had not had time to read up on talking to rape victims. "Like I said, I think you did the right thing. You shouldn't have to keep something like this to yourself."

"A-alright," Kaoru nodded slowly. "But you -- I mean -- It's not like this isn't going to cost you -- like it hasn't cost you already..."

"Kaoru," Kyouya sniffed a laugh. "If you're worried about THAT, don't. As you know, I've got such a sterling reputation, it's about time someone compromised it." Kyouya got to his feet and held out a hand -- a symbolic gesture, he decided. 

Indeed, ever since he joined the Host Club, Kyouya had enjoyed stepping outside his frame for a few hours a day. But at the club everyone still knew him as the urbane and cultivated sort. They knew his blood type was AB, and, hence, that he wasn't exactly a milk-of-human-kindness-by-the-quart-in-every-vein kind of guy. But they still considered Honey-senpai to be far more likely to go on a murderous rampage, whereas his own power lay more in ruining lives behind the scenes. By rights, it should not have mattered, but Kyouya still resented that particular constraint on his image, and had been itching to shake things up. Kaoru had merely provided a pretext. And what was more, from an admittedly selfish and juvenile standpoint Kyouya knew full well how taken Kaoru was with his brother's devilish side. If he himself were to go on being as straightedge as he was -- devious enough but unwilling to take chances -- then he might never have entered the running. To that end, his calculated decision to let loose was aimed not only at throwing Hikaru off balance, but as showing Kaoru a new side of him. After all, if it failed, he could easily rebrand himself as a tsundere badboy for the purposes of the Host Club. Already, with the news of the fight-that-almost-was spreading like wildfire, he had seen requests for himself and the twins go up fivefold, and it was only too bad that the club would be operating with a skeleton cast for a few weeks. Haruhi had a good head on her shoulders, and he would teach her the administrative tasks he couldn't perform from afar, but on the whole he felt better than he had in months, and the lost business was the only thing he regretted.

"Uh, alright," Kaoru nodded again. "But…"

Kyouya raised his eyebrows.

"I hate to be ungrateful after everything you've done for me, but d-do you think anyone would -- you know?"

The twin was looking up at him, his shoulders slightly haunched, and if he had ears they would have been pressed sheepishly against his skull. Kyouya hated himself for the rush of power the posture sent through him, conjuring up images of Kaoru singing praises to his healing cock as it went, but he couldn't very well help it. The break from character had given him a rush like no other, and ever since they walked out of school under dozens of flabbergasted stares it had only grown stronger. Now that Kaoru was on his turf and they were one on one, it was making him see red again, but in a different way from before. Indeed, taking slow breaths to calm himself down was proving an exercise in self-mastery on its own right.

"No, Kaoru" -- Kyouya said, folding his lips into his practiced, motherly smile. "I doubt anyone would guess what's really going on. After all, it was far from the first thing even on my mind. At worst, people might think Hikaru and I had a fight over you, but if that's the case, I've got ways of steering the rumors in another direction."

"O-okay." Someone closed a door down the hall, and the leaves of the orchid in the ikebana arrangement in the corner quivered. Kaoru looked down, fixing his eyes on his knees, and bit his lip. Kyouya had an answer for everything. And while Kaoru would have dearly liked to thank him and walk out the door right then and there, it would not have changed the situation. Like Kyouya said, what was done was done, and he could not have gone home after school that day anyway.

Indeed, if he didn't know how to talk to Hikaru before, he was doubly at a loss now. In fact, that was perhaps the real reason he regretted things turning out as they did.

"But what about Hikaru?" he asked, doing his best to make it sound like an afterthought. "He probably hates me now for going behind his back…"

Kyouya pressed his lips together, his features growing stony. "Hikaru is not our problem right now -- he's got others he can go to for help, and he is not the victim here."

Normally, the Shadow King reserved looking straight into another's eyes for uncommonly delicate cases -- emergencies, if you will -- but Kaoru still looked less than convinced, so Kyouya knelt down and took his hand.

"Right now, your biggest priority is yourself," he said firmly, braving a small sigh when Kaoru did not pull away. "Don't worry about Hikaru, don't worry about public opinion, don't worry about me -- I'll take care of it all. I will do everything I can to help you and stand by your side, and when it's over, I will never mention it again."

It would be hard, he realized, to try and convince Kaoru of the sincerity of his words -- after all, it was whispered around the Club that Kyouya never did anything for free. Strictly speaking, he didn't even believe it himself. But if he couldn't convince a man he loved for having the eyes of one determined to die standing, what sort of calculating, manipulative bastard would he be?


	4. Kyouya

"So you're not going to tell me anything. You're not going to tell me anything at all."

Hikaru sat on his bed, arms folded, with his lip puffed out and his eyes fixed on a single spot on the carpet. Yuzuha stood just opposite with her hands on her hips. Through the conversation with the Ootoris, both senior and junior, she had done her best to keep her cool through what was just about her apotheosis as a bad parent in the eyes of the world, but Kaoru and Kyouya had gone, and she no longer had the strength to make her voice match her posture. Indeed, her words sounded more like a plea than anything else.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me anything" -- she threw up her hands, turning on her heel and marching to the window. Outside, an early spring shower had come and gone, and the remnants of rain were dripping from the roses. The twins' bedroom opened into a small inner courtyard studded with vines, and standing close to the door she could smell the sated earth, resting plump and fecund after the ravages of the storm. 

"Look, maybe you could go talk to them," she ventured. "Maybe it's not too late."

"Goddamiit, MOM" -- Hikaru roared, jumping to his feet. 

Yuzuha raised her fingers to her forehead, knotting her brows.

"Yeah. Talk to them. Yeah, right," Hikaru scoffed. "Have you MET Kyouya? He's probably got the whole damn Ootori police force patrolling the perimeter, and you want me to go TALK to them?"

"Alright, well maybe you can call them -- I don't know." Yuzuha sighed. The headache was back. All she could wonder was how she had become so fragile.

"Call them. Yeah, right." Hikaru plopped back on the bed, folding his arms.

Indeed, he'd done just that about a dozen times since they'd gone, but from the looks of it both Kaoru and Kyouya had turned off their phones or blocked his number. It hurt to think about it -- that he'd become such a persona non grata that he'd been blocked -- but then again he probably deserved it, given that when Kyouya picked up he'd broken down and began to shout obscenities, only to have Kyouya inform him that he "didn't have to listen to that."

But still. It hurt. It hurt so much. It hurt enough to make him howl and climb the walls -- and he would have done it, too, if it didn't hurt to move -- to even take a breath.

"All I'm saying is, maybe there's still time to clear the air. Maybe you can go over there tomorrow, after things've settled down --"

"SETTLED DOWN?! Mom, you have no idea what's going on, so just -- JUST DON'T TALK, ALRIGHT?!"

Yuzuha winced, touching her fingers to the spot between her brows.

"Hikaru, I'm not going to listen to this" -- she sighed, picking up the hem of her semi-revealing kimono as she headed for the door.

…

Hikaru sat under the long, stinging needles for a long time, his eyes fixed on the molding between the tiles. The tiles were grey -- just like the water, and just like the frosted glass that let in a grey light, only to have it mingle with the needles and circle forlornly around the drain. 

Gone.

He had turned on the shower full-blast, but he still couldn't cry, even though he knew no one would hear him.

Kyouya had come and taken his brother, and his brother was gone. For a time, Hikaru had been afraid to look to the side for fear of seeing a black hole where his brother had been, for before that day, the twins had never been apart for more than a few hours. Indeed, when Kaoru had refused to speak to him in the morning, Hikaru was sure he'd come around -- after all, Kaoru had a tendency to brood, often coming to him and breaking down after days of being quiet. In the end, they always talked, and it was always fine, for Kaoru trusted no one in the world like he trusted Hikaru. It didn't even matter that Kaoru's thinking was convoluted at times, and that he worried about things that Hikaru wouldn't have thought twice about. They were brothers -- and that meant they always did their best for each other.

Hikaru hugged his knees, noticing for the first time how knobbly they were. One was bruised -- he didn't know from what, and the other had a scab shaped like an arrowhead.

All he had wanted was to be close with his brother. Complicated and odd through Kaoru was, when they lay together under the covers, fingers laced and listening to the rain, time and again it would feel like it was everything he'd ever wanted. Living was difficult some days, and at times all he wanted was lie in bed all day, congealed into the sheets, but with Kaoru… Kaoru's presence, Kaoru's hair, Kaoru's freckle in the corner of his eye and the other one in the corner of his lip, Kaoru's fingers… Somehow, all those things had the power if not to make it all go away, but certainly to make it all feel small. And on top of all that, Kaoru always smelled very nice -- like freshly cut sandalwood or ocean depending on the day, and was the only person to never tell Hikaru that his fears were stupid.

And now Kaoru was gone. Kyouya had come and taken him away.

A part of him still refused to believe that Kaoru had gone on his own volition. The Kaoru he knew would never have done that -- would never have refused to look at him like that, would never have gone without a single word. Indeed, Hikaru couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong, and everyone had conspired to keep him in the dark about it. 

The water ran out and the needles grew cold, but it wasn't until his shoulders began to shake that Hikaru decided he might want to do something about it -- and even once he did, he still sat there for a long time, waiting for his skin to grow numb. He then got up, wrapped a towel around his shoulders, and stepped out of the shower, leaving the water on. 

He knew what he did was wrong. He knew he should have stopped when Kaoru gasped and arched his back, and that he shouldn't have shamed his brother for backing out. It wasn't love, what he had done -- but still, he thought that Kaoru might have forgiven him, or at least dignified him with a goodbye.

Hikaru approached the mirror -- a large swath of glass that spanned half the wall, but he couldn't bear to look up. Instead, he reached for a razor in its holder by the sink, and tested it with his finger. Outside -- from what he could tell, it had grown darker and grayer, and inside the darkness had followed suit by pooling into the corners. 

A few shots, maybe a lighter, and this -- and he'd be right as rain. At least for the moment, it felt like the only way to take care of himself. 

…

The final bell had rung, and Kyouya paused by his locker to drop off his things before heading to detention. In all truth, part of him had suspected that there were better ways to handle the situation -- ones that wouldn't have caused such a stir, and ones that wouldn't have required so much damage control. But he would have been lying if he said he didn't admit to enjoying the attention. From the moment he set foot in school that morning, people had been looking at him differently -- a few with admiration, some with confusion, and many with dread. Fewer people spoke to him now, at least directly, but that was just as well -- for he had been busy the previous night and there was still Haruhi to catch up on her new responsibilities. Indeed, less chatter meant more time to get things done, and while the old Kyouya's reputation might have been his most prized possession, as he headed for the unfamiliar part of campus where detention was held, the breeze carried with it an odd sense of relief along with the scent of falling sakura.

The detention room was like any other -- there was no sign to mark it as such and Kyouya had to check the number before opening the door. A typical Ouran classroom greeted him -- with rows of desks and inkwells two by two, a set of windows with light streaming through, and shining hardwood floors that looked like they'd been freshly lacquered. There was even the regulation bottle-green chalkboard, and a map of the world up above. A few of the students were already there, and Kyouya recognized Hikaru by his shock of red hair, though the twin had averted his eyes.

At other schools, getting detention meant being assigned chores, but at Ouran the educators of the privileged caste had deemed this too cruel and unusual a punishment. To that end, detention was simply study hall, where talking was not allowed and students had to sit in assign seats and work quietly for two hours. Which was well and good, for as far as Kyouya was concerned there was always more work to be done. To that end, he handed his slip to the teacher on duty and headed to his seat -- the last one by the window. He thought he saw Hikaru glance up and hide his face -- and the girls in the corner began to titter and opened up their phones, sending a wave of nudges and and winks across the room. 

"Take a picture -- it'll last longer," Kyouya tossed over his shoulder before the teacher could silence the room.

Yes, part of him was definitely enjoying his new rep, not at least he could finally say what he thought, in the tone he wanted to say it in. He settled into his seat with a satisfied smile, and flipped open his laptop. Laptops were allowed in study hall -- considering that most entertainment websites were blocked by the school -- but before he could click on the email from Haruhi with the subject line "One more thing," a new chat window opened up.

Hikaru Hitachiin: Kyouya? *white flag* Can I talk to you? Please? Just for a minute. I promise not to swear or be rude.

Oh, brother.

Kyouya felt his eyebrow twitch -- a tic that came out when he was annoyed. He glanced at the older twin's back. The older Hitachiin seemed to be holding his breath.

(Kyouya Ootori has gone off-record)

Kyouya: Yes.

Kyouya: I suggest you go off-record as well. Chats and email will be the first thing they'll scour for an admission of guilt -- just a friendly reminder you don't deserve, frankly.

Kyouya looked up. Hikaru's elbows were poised in midair, fingers clenching and unclenching over the keycoard. The cursor blinked. 

(Hikaru is typing)

Hikaru: Kyouya, I know what I did was wrong.

No shit, Sherlock. Kyouya smirked.

Hikaru: How's Kaoru? Is he feeling any better?

Hikaru: I just wanted to ask him one thing.

Kyouya: Ask me. I'll deliver the message.

Hikaru: … 

Hikaru: Ok.

The twin's fingers pattered over the keyboard before pausing again. 

Hikaru: I guess I just don't understand why he didn't come to me. I mean, know he didn't have a very good time of it, but we're brothers. We tell each other everything. 

Kyouya folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Hikaru: I just don't understand why he came to you. No offense, of course.

Kyouya: Is that your question?

Hikaru: Yeah. I guess so.

Kyouya chuckled. 

Kyouya: Well, gee, I think I can answer that one.

Kyouya pursed his lips, taking a moment to phrase his next reply.

Kyouya: I mean, I don't know, Hikaru. Not that I've been in such a situation, but I imagine I'd have a hard time talking to someone who forced me into sex, especially when I was physically incapable of doing anything to stop them.

Kyouya watched the cursor blink on the twin's screen. Hikaru looked like he had been scalded, even from behind.

Hikaru: What...

Hikaru: What do you mean, physically incapable? 

Hikaru: I mean, he wasn't moving much, but his eyes were open, he knew what was going on.

Hikaru: I mean, it's not like he's that much weaker than me…

Kyouya: Oh, come off it, Hikaru, seriously. Do you not know that your brother's got sleep paralysis?

Hikaru: He's got what?

Kyouya: He hasn't told you that when he falls asleep there's a period of time when he can tell what's going on, but he can't move?

Hikaru: No!

The twin's elbows were shaking now -- as was the rest of him. But it was Kyouya's turn to pause.

Kyouya: So you're saying he's NEVER told you he's had sleep issues?

Hikaru: No, he hasn't!

Kyouya: And you never noticed anything?

Hikaru: No!

Kyouya: I see. But don't the two of you, pardon my French, sleep together?

Hikaru: Yeah, but…

Hikaru: I always fall asleep two seconds after I... 

Hikaru: Well, you know.

Kyouya: Okay. I see. 

Kyouya sat up and pondered. 

Obviously, this complicated matters. Not that not-knowing absolved Hikaru of his guilt, but he was beginning to understand Kaoru's uncertainty.

Hikaru: Kyouya, does this mean I'm a rapist?

Hikaru: I don't wanna be a rapist!

Kyouya sighed.

Well, gee, you raped -- he thought to himself -- so I don't know what else I'd call you.

But even the new Kyouya could not have brought himself to type that.

He sighed again.

Well, I'm sorry to say -- he began to type -- But you did what you did, and it'll be up to Kaoru to decide what's next. Regardless of the circumstances, the lack of a no is not a yes -- that much you should've learned in health class

(Hikaru is typing) 

Hikaru: Kyouya, please, you've got to tell him I didn't mean it.

Hikaru: I would never do something like that 

Hikaru: I mean, I love him, he's my brother, I just want him back

The twin typed feverishly for a few more moments, only to stop and suddenly delete everything he'd written.

Hikaru: Please just tell him I'm sorry

Kyouya sighed, shaking his head, and pressed "return" on his earlier message. 

Hikaru, I need to go -- he added -- I'm sorry. I'll do everything I can to look after Kaoru, but it's really up to him.

He closed the chat and exed out of the window. Hikaru sat frozen to the spot, eyes fixed on the screen, but that was the breaks, and Kyouya had bigger fish to fry. After all, it was getting late, and with everything that had been going on, if he wasn't careful he'd start falling back on his schoolwork.

…

"So how have things been, Kaoru?"

The young woman smiled across the space between them, her knees and ankles primly together. She sat very straight in her chair, and, indeed, all of her was very straight, from the lines of her hair to the rims of her glasses. Kaoru noticed she wore brown Mary Janes, too, and they matched her pencil skirt.

The days had begun to blur together, and Kaoru could not remember much of anything anymore. He had not slept since he arrived at the Ootoris', and when it came to insomnia the man from Fight Club had been right. When you weren't really asleep, you were never really awake, either. His head ached continuously, and felt very light, and was like a big empty room, with thoughts that wandered in, but none that tarried very long. Once in a while, a wave of drowsiness would come over him, and his hands and feet would feel like big, clumsy mattresses -- but on the whole all he felt was a whole lot of nothing. Nothing -- and emptiness.

All he recalled from those days were the ashen walls of his new bedroom, with its four-poster bed and its heavy white drapes -- and then there was the blinding light of the morning room, too, with its cups of black coffee and Ootori senior reading the paper. Kyouya's older brother was there too, but Kaoru didn't register much about him except that his hair was a few shades lighter than Kyouya's, and that he was talking about something Kaoru couldn't understand.

And at the day program, too, all he could recall were the dapples of light, stamped across a linoleum floor in a room with desks welded to the floor. He remembered the boy that sat next to him, too. His name was Nitori, and he had a mole on his right cheekbone, and mousy hair.

"I'm sorry?"

"I understand you've been through some hard times, Kaoru. If you're not ready to talk about it just yet, that's fine. But I want you to know that this is a safe place. What we say here stays here, and no one else can know about it."

Kaoru nodded. He knew how psychologists worked -- he'd had his share in his lifetime. He knew the statement came with a caveat, too -- that the things he said stayed in the room as long as he didn't mean to hurt himself or others. Still, his rational mind agreed: there were things to be done and problems to be worked through, except… Except the bigger issue was that Hikaru was gone -- gone as he knew him -- and Kaoru felt like little more than a shell. Indeed, it was a miracle he was still able to move and to speak -- to do anything, really. He supposed he would have had keep living somehow -- the alternative was inconceivable -- and yet he didn't know where to begin. It was as if everything had been wiped blank, and the computer screen flashed "error."

"Let's start with today. How has today been for you?"

Kaoru pressed his lips. There was a coffee table between them, and on the coffee table there were books. Indeed, the office was designed to look like a living room -- with Ansel Adams on the walls, an Afghan rug, and potted plants aplenty. 

"You know, I've been meaning to tell you" -- Kyouya had buttonholed Kaoru in the foyer that day, just as they were leaving that morning. Kaoru had not admitted that he'd slept poorly, only nodded when when they'd asked if everything was alright, but Kyouya, as always, knew better. 

"It's just the way you described something -- it was odd," Kyouya went on, looping his shoelaces around his fingers. 

"Yeah?"

The dust buzzed in the streams of light from the tall windows flanking the door, and Kaoru had begun to feel light-headed. 

"From what you told me, I got the sense that when you're falling asleep, there's a period of time when you're conscious of what's going on, but you can't move -- right?"

"Yes."

"You... do know that's not exactly… normal, correct?"

Kaoru had not known, and at first he had hardly registered the statement. 

"Not normal?"

"I don't believe that's medically normal, no."

Kaoru sat heavily on the bench, opposite the one occupied by Kyouya. The older boy had gone on to tie his other shoe by touch as he watched Kaoru with his usual, blank-slate expression.

The sun was starting to hurt his eyes.

"I think it might be a good idea to tell them about that today," Kyouya said. "After all, sleep is important."

Kyouya knew. Of course Kyouya knew. He knew it would be hard to talk about what actually happened, so he'd given him a crutch, and Kaoru felt overwhelmingly thankful.

"I guess today's been a little tough," he ventured, taking a breath.

"I see. How so?"

"Well, I've been living with a friend, so I haven't been sleeping very well. In fact, I haven't been sleeping at all."

"I see," the woman said gently, jotting something on her pad. Kaoru noticed that her eyes were a good deal like Kyouya's -- almond-shaped and maroon, with just the slightest touch of milky opalescence. "And will this be the first time you've had problems with sleep?"

…

It was past midnight, and Kyouya's eyes were starting to get dry. His back was starting to get stiff, too, and he had caught himself reading the same line over and over -- which meant that studying had reached the point of diminishing returns.

He looked up at the clock.

Wednesday. It was only Wednesday. Two more days. No, a day and a half. Kyouya had never let on, but he liked weekends almost as much as the next high school student, because weekends meant he got to sleep in. It was always difficult to his work down at night, and, at the end of the day, Kyouya LIKED the night. Things were different at night -- not so much so because it was populated to a whole other set of creatures, no. Even if that were the case, Kyouya would never have known it, seeing how he never went out. No -- he simply liked to sit in a bubble of light and enjoy the pure, unadulterated impossibility of anyone bothering him.

Of course, the flip side was that by the time Friday rolled around, the fatigue would add up. Not uncommonly, Kyouya needed three strong cups of coffee to get him through the day, and that number was steadily growing.

With a sigh, he rose out of his seat, running his palm over his face. He had half a mind to walk the few steps to the bed and fall asleep still-clothed, but his mouth was dry and he didn't want to trouble the servants. To that end, he made his way to the den, and turned the corner to the hall.

In the kitchen, the lights were off, but flickered on as soon he stepped inside. A large expanse of countertops came into view, along with a shining hibachi grill, and the tall face of a refrigerator. Kyouya approached the fridge and started.

On the floor, there was a wilted Hitachiin twin, his legs twisted under him like a broken puppet's. A glass of lay spilled on the floor, and the ice cubes strewn across the tiles. 

"Kaoru?"

Kaoru did not look up. 

The Hitachiin had gone to bed with the rest of the house -- which usually retired early -- and so Kyouya had not seen him for several hours.

He squatted to his level.

"Kaoru, is everything alright?"

Kaoru didn't answer. Of course he wouldn't. How stupid to even ask. And yet, the redhead's eyes were unnaturally dark and lackluster, like the windows of an empty house.

"Kaoru, talk to me," Kyouya said firmly. "Did something happen? Are you unable to sleep?"

The Hitachiin stared at the ice cubes and nodded. 

Kyouya sighed. "I thought as much."

What would help?

No -- that, too, was a pointless question.

"You need sleep, Kaoru. I know it won't fix things, but… Have you told them you've been having sleep problems today?"

Kaoru nodded, pulling his legs to his chin.

"Yeah, but… Yeah."

"Have they done anything about it?"

"They gave me some pills…"

Kyouya raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.

"They're not helping?"

"N-no, I just…" Kaoru drew a ragged breath, burying his face further into his knees. "I'm afraid to take pills."

"What are you worried will happen?"

"I -- I don't know." Kaoru hid his eyes. 

Kyouya pondered for a moment.

He couldn't begin to fathom what it was like. He wasn't sure he wanted to. It seemed like Kaoru was more than an empty house -- he was an empty hearse -- worse than dead and worse than empty. To expect him to do anything at all -- to react in any way that was rational, was anything but --

And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that if he only got close enough, he would be able to reach out to the struggling person trapped inside.

"Well, look, I think it's worth a try," he said. "Yes, pills can have side effects, but how about we try them now, and I can keep watch in case something happens?"

Obviously, few pills had instantaneous side effects -- Kyouya didn't have to have gone to med school to know that much -- but if Kaoru believed it to be true, then so be it.

"O-okay."

"Okay, then." Kyouya pulled himself to his feet, holding out a hand. The refrigerator face stared down, tall and imposing and silver, and Kyouya registered that his throat was still dry. But Kaoru still looked doggedly down, as if purposefully avoiding the hand.

"How about we go to my part of the house, and you can have my bed. I can sleep on the couch downstairs -- or on the ottoman upstairs. Either way, I'll be close by in case you need me."

"O-okay."

"Can you get up?"

Kaoru made a half-hearted motion with his legs, only to flop down dejectedly. The refrigerator stopped, leaving the hum of the lights.

"No? Alright."

Kyouya bent his legs and took Kaoru's hand, placing his other one on his back and pulled him into a standing position. Thankfully, the twin was in decent enough shape not to flop over, and Kyouya quickly calculated how many feet and how many turns they'd have to make between the kitchen and his bedroom. At the very least, Kaoru seemed untraumatized by the touch -- which was good news, and Kyouya threw the twin's arm over his shoulders, taking firm hold of his torso.

"Alright, let's go, it's not too far."

Kaoru nodded, making a small noise in his throat, and they set off. At first it was slow-going, and walking supporting another person was certainly no picnic, but it couldn't have been worse, Kyouya thought to himself, than the time he'd given Tamaki when the King and the hosts had dragged him out of bed for an early-morning trip to the mall. In the end, it didn't take as long as he'd thought. Halfway through, Kaoru seemed to find his feet, and before they knew it they were back in the bedroom -- or rather the elevated space in the wing that Kyouya called his own. The blues of the moon lay printed on the bed, and Kaoru plopped down on it, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Alright, first things first," Kyouya said, dusting off his hands in a perfunctory manner. "Where exactly are your pills -- so I can go find them?"

The pills turned out to be in Kaoru's bag, and it took Kyouya less than a minute to find them. In any event, that was good news -- for it may have just been his imagination, but the guest room didn't look too friendly, with its four-poster bed like some sterile torture device brought into an operating theatre.

When he returned, pill-bottle and glass in hand, Kaoru did not look like he had moved, only his chest was rising fitfully.

"Would it help to hold something? A stuffed animal, perhaps?"

He set the water and the pills on the table.

It was late, so Kyouya wasn't sure what he was thinking -- it was so long since he'd even owned stuffed animals. He would have to check the storage -- but the Hitachiin twin nodded, balling his fists into the bedspread.

"Alright, I'll look. Take these first."

He put his hand behind Kaoru's back and helped him up, watching him swallow the pills. He then steadied his chin and brought the water to his lips.

Once the twin was resting quietly again, Kyouya sighed and took a step back, putting the pills back on the bedside table. He cast another look over the huddled form and quickly turned away, walking over to the wall of closets. He wasn't good at this. Indeed, from the moment he'd spotted Kaoru on the kitchen floor, the bulk of his mental energy had gone towards talking himself down from the proverbial ledge. 

Outside of their friend Tamaki's crazed imagination, he wasn't motherly -- at all. His family had hardly been close after his mother died -- when he was only four -- and his sister Fuyumi had been a poor substitute. In fact, outside his skill of looking at another as if they were all that existed -- a skill he used in networking and had perfect long before the Host Club -- he hardly knew the first thing about caring for another. And to make things worse, he didn't even know what Kaoru wanted. From the start, he'd wondered if he should offer up his room to share, seeing how that's what Kaoru was used to, but sharing a room was what had started the trouble. And then there was the dilemma when it came to touching, too. Until that point, reaching out a hand was all that Kyouya allowed himself, and yet he had yearned to do more, for… For when had he last touched someone, even? It seemed like everything he'd done, his whole life until then, had been so sterile, so… perfunctory.

He slid open the door. Thankfully, he had always been an fastidious organizer, so it took less than a minute of moving boxes to find the one labeled "Age 3-5." He lifted the lid, a little afraid of what he would find, and felt his heart move in an uncomfortable way. 

The toys looked so much smaller now. The giraffe that had been once as big as him now fit, its neck kinked, into a box a half-meter square, and the others looked at him with pitiful googly eyes. Kyouya pulled out the giraffe, brushing off invisible dust, and looked back at the twin. Kaoru still lay in a heap on the bed, and had not moved. 

"Here," Kyouya said, walking over -- his voice a bit gentler. "This is… Well, my giraffe." The Giraffe had had a name, but it wasn't a memory that Kyouya was ready to disturb.

The Hitachiin looked up, and Kyouya held out the toy.

"He hasn't seen the light of day in a while, I suppose." Kyouya smiled. "But I remember liking him quite a lot as a child."

Kaoru gave a half-nod and pulled the giraffe towards him, wrapping his arms and legs around it. 

"Is there anything else I can do for you? Something to drink, maybe?"

Kaoru shook his head. In the half-light from the desk, his skin looked pale -- translucent -- and Kyouya noticed a vein just under the temple.

Mother of Hell. 

Yes, a terrible, ego-dystonic part of him that lusted and longed without rhyme or reason had thought of Kaoru in his bed many times. But in his dreams, they'd lie skin on skin laughing at bad puns, and playfully pulling a book back and forth -- all on a long, blissful Sunday morning with nowhere to go and an agenda pristine as the sheets.

No, not like this. Never like this. 

Kyouya wanted to cry -- and vomit.

The twin had begun to whimper and shift, his knees still up and his face in the giraffe's neck. In the half-light, it was hard to tell the color of even his hair -- everything just looked ash-grey. 

"You can stay here tonight if you want," Kyouya said. "In fact, you can stay here every night. We can have another bed moved in here for you. I meant to offer when you first got here, but I wasn't sure --"

He paused. Kaoru's whimpers had quieted, and he lay still again, his chest neither rising nor falling.

"Kaoru, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

No answer.

"Kaoru, please move if you're alright."

Kyouya waited, and, slowly -- very slowly -- Kaoru tightened his grip on the giraffe.

"Okay, good." Kyouya took the chair from his writing desk and turned it around, lowering himself into it. 

"Kaoru, can I ask you something? Please? I just want to know."

The clock ticked, the gears measuring out invisible seconds. The bed lay in a long shadow that came from Kyouya knew not whence, and the Hitachiin had begun to breathe regularly again, though Kyouya could not see his eyes.

Kaoru nodded.

"When it comes to --"

No. He couldn't. He ached at the incompleteness of it all, the fallibility of words, and yet… When HAD he last touched someone? That is, in anything but a perfunctory way, such as shaking hands?

"Never mind. I… "

He got up with a sigh, and strode back to the closet, pulling down an extra blanket. Kaoru was in no shape to move under the covers, but it still got cold at night. He turned, briefly, to look at the wall-sized expanse of sky that connected the two levels of his wing. Outside, the trees in the garden seemed to shine -- thought it wasn't much of a garden. The Ootori estate was built in postmodern style, and was like a space station sitting on a cho** of bare ground. The trees encircled the house in a neat line, but beyond that, the Ootori patriarch -- in what he considered to be the height of eccentricity -- had reproduced an American prairie.

(**Cho -- a unit of traditional Japanese measurements roughly equivalent to 2.45 meters. Japan still uses the traditional system in select cases, such as measuring land.)

Kyouya balled his fists into the comforter and turned away, walking back over to the bed.

"Kaoru, I know it's hard for you to sleep," he said, his voice shaking just barely. "I know you might not even know what you need right. But I really, really…"

He sucked in a pained breath. 

Bedside manner. Bedside manner? FUCK bedside manner. This was his friend, his friend was in pain, and he even couldn't even say two words to help HIM? What kind of a sick, twisted, repressed, frozen freak WAS HE?

"Kaoru, I --"

No. He had no words. There WERE no words.

Clenching his fists, he tossed the blanket over his friend, and waited for the fleece to settle. Kaoru did not move as it did, and Kyouya turned on his heel and strode over -- this time to the bookshelf. 

How long had it been? How long had it been since he'd read a book he wanted to read, a book not filled with facts and numbers? Something tugged painfully under his ribs as he ran his eyes over the shelf, the books like captive butterflies pinned under glass. He stopped at one in particular, and slid open the panel.

When he came back over to the bed, Kaoru still lay, draped in the cold of the moonlight, fingers deep in the giraffe's fur.

Kyouya flipped open the book and sat down.

"Chapter One" -- he read out loud -- "The long-expected party."

…

An hour later, the hobbits had set off for Bree but had not yet met Tom Bombadil, and Kyouya paused in his reading. Truth be told, he'd been afraid to let his eyes leave the page lest he start to feel things again, and the sound of his voice was as much a balm on his own nerves as it was a means to soothe Kaoru. In many ways, Tolkien's writing was the perfect: eloquent, the work of a true linguist -- and hardly heavy-handed, such that no one might have faulted him for having "too many notes." Reading Tolkien was like getting on a boat and being born ceaselessly away, past mists of time to a world both richer and purer.

Kaoru's eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling steadily. The light of the lamp rested on his face and the rest of the bed lay in shadow. His grip on the giraffe slackened.

Kyouya sighed and put the book down by the glass and the pills. 

The twin's submissiveness earlier notwithstanding, he still hadn't gotten an answer to his question -- but he supposed it was all the same. As far as he could guess, Kaoru was narcoleptic, which meant there was no way to tell if he was awake or asleep. It also meant there was no way to tell if something went awry until the next day -- but as Kyouya liked to tell himself, sometimes being present was half the battle. 

His own body felt like lead, and the ottoman in the corner of the room -- just shy of the orb of the yellow desk-lamp -- seemed to be a million miles away. But it wasn't nearly as far away as he felt from where he wanted to be.


	5. Phase Two

After that day, Hikaru's life became hell. He knew, logically, that codependence was a bad thing -- that codependent was a bad way to be. But until that day he had not realized just how bad he had it. Everything hurt. Every breath he took. And his heart had been emptied, scooped out to make room for another, and now that other was gone... He went through his days like a beaten dog, looking over his shoulder, for after Kyouya had said it, it felt like everyone else knew. But more than that... "I'm sorry, it's out of my hands; it's up to Kaoru now." But from Kaoru there was radio silence. His phone was dead, his seat was empty, and at home, Hikaru couldn't bring himself to go into his room, and returned to his own, which had been untouched since the original decorator, the framed black-and-white photo of the 50's era T-bird still on the wall. 

The days passed in a stupor, and class had become a lost cause. He still came, but for the most part he could not even recall what happened between bells. His grades dropped even further, but he begin to care. He couldn't care. He still came to detention, too, and sat in his assigned seat, a few rows from Kyouya. The two did not speak anymore. Hikaru would still stare at the green light next to Kyouya's name, but there was nothing more he could think to say.

"Hikaru, are you sure you're okay?"

It was just after homeroom, and Hikaru was leaning against the window in the hall, looking past the rain-soaked granite at a thicket of ferns. Though it was already May, the day was uncommonly rainy, and though the wall and the windowsill were wide enough to make a comfortable seat, a pull of cold air still came from the spot where the windowpane latched. 

"Huh?"

Hikaru didn't need to look to know who it was. Haruhi caught up with him after homeroom every day, and every day she asked the same question. He turned around, and sure enough -- there she was, and her pokey little face wore the same, stoically perplexed expression that it did every day. Early in their acquaintance, Hikaru had rejected her quite violently -- and publicly -- on account of her looking like a tanuki, and while he had since repented his actions, he still thought there was something of the Japanese raccoon-dog in her curious, nut-brown eyes. He found himself feeling a little sorry for her. If there was anyone who didn't deserve to be cleaning up his mess, it was her, and yet she was the one saddled with the Host Club's administration while Kyouya's was gone, along with the thankless task of fielding complaints from disappointed guests.

"No." He shook his head, turning away. "Just get my geography and literature notes again today, okay?"

Haruhi hesitated, then nodded. 

"Okay. But you know if you keep doing this, it's only a matter of time until they find out."

Hikaru shrugged. "When they find out, I'll stop."

Outside, the rain had started up again, pattering violently against the ferns. The part of the building where they were faced the edge of the grounds, a fence of cast-iron stakes blinkering the view of an overgrown park. The sky was a gunmetal gray, and Haruhi looked like she was about to say something, but changed her mind.

"Okay. Well, take care of yourself, I guess."

He half-expected for her to reach out and pat his arm -- but she didn't. Instead, she turned on her heel, and he listened to her footsteps blend with the echoes of the hall, turning around just in time to see her blazer disappear around the corner. 

...

Every other day -- perhaps every other two -- Hikaru had begun skipping class, and going to the hospital where Kaoru went came every morning. His mother had given at least that much away -- that Kaoru was part of some day program for troubled teens -- and it wasn't hard to put two and two together after that. There were only so many hospitals run by the Ootori group in the greater Tokyo area. Therefore, Hikaru took up slipping out of school just after homeroom, and, having sworn the driver to secrecy, would camp out in the car by the hospital entrance. Homeroom ended at 8:20 a.m. and the day program didn't begin until 9, which gave him the perfect opportunity. And so they would get there at 8:45, and at 8:50, a nearly identical limousine would pull up, and Kaoru would get out of the car and walk across the square towards the hospital. The first time Hikaru saw him, his heart gave a painful wrench, and he had to lower his eyes, half-afraid that his brother would see him, even though the tinted glass. But he hadn't. In fact, Kaoru had kept his head down and kept walking, his shoulders stiff even from far away, and scarcely looked up until another, mousy-haired boy had caught up with him by the entrance.

That day, the sun had just begun to peek from behind the clouds when Kaoru's limousine arrived. The last of the sakura leaves, yellowed by the rain, swept across the pavement, and as Hikaru watched Kaoru get out of the car, something -- though he didn't know what -- had made him decide that it was time to go into phase two.

To that end, as soon as Kaoru disappeared inside the building, he ducked under the seat to pull a spare set of clothes, and began to strip off his uniform. He then pulled on the nondescript tracksuit and pair of loafers -- and took out a mirror to brush his hair to the opposite side. That done, he reached, with a shaking hand, for the door, and got out of the car, taking a brief moment to breathe in the remnants of the rain. The Hospital building looked like something out of the 80's, with an odd, Stonehenge-like sculpture opposite the door, and a facade like a Polaroid camera. An anemic sun bounced off windows the color of spilled gasoline, and an eddy of people had begun to form around the revolving door.

Perfect.

Hikaru strode forward with what he hoped looked like a confident a step, hoping to blend in with the current of patients. He had no plan. In fact, he was halfway to the door before it even occurred to him that Kaoru couldn't have passed through the lobby more than five minutes before, and if someone were no notice him, there would be trouble. After all, he was dealing with the Ootoris, and knowing them, he wouldn't have been surprised if he had been declared Public Enemy Number One, with every security guard around being given his picture. But he was already pushing the door, so it was too late, and the reception area was milling with people as well. He drew a small sigh when he didn't catch sight of any security uniforms -- and unlike the outside, the lobby it was friendlier and warm, with blond wooded paneling and lights to designate available check-in areas. The hall split into three parts, each fenced off by a green, wrought iron fence, and inside third part there were benches and caddies filled with seasonal flowers. Still, Hikaru found it a hard to breathe. No plan indeed. His throat felt dry, and as if it was swelling with hives, and all he could think was how lucky it was that there were so many people, their voices pattering against the walls like a summer rain. He looked up at the sign-post -- the orientation markers made to look, purposefully, like the guideposts in a touristy part of a city, and suddenly felt more confused than ever.

Neurology? Social work? Telemetry? (What was telemetry?) From his mother's words, the place Kaoru went could have been anywhere.

"Young man, can I help you find something?"

The words sent a jolt through Hikaru's entire body. He looked up, and saw a man clothed in a smile as crisp as uniform, and with eyes schooled in a carefully cultivated, compassionate neutrality.

"I... er...."

Hikaru must have looked terrified, for the man's eyes softened -- but the Hitachiin twin still felt no less like vomiting.

"I'm, just, er... Waiting for someone." 

"Oh, alright. If you need help, just ask at the desk." The man indicated the reception area, and took another seemingly skeptical glance at Hikaru before turning away. Hikaru held his breath until he could no longer distinguish the man's footsteps, and then took another slow, shallow breath in a vain effort to regroup.

Okay. Psychiatry. The lowest on the pole. That was probably a good place to start. He turned his steps in the direction of the sign, and found himself breathing a little easier once the "town square" disappeared behind him. Away from the foyer with its skylight and the pale anemic sunlight, the hallways were a little wider than they were tall, probably aimed to make one feel pleasantly cloistered. But there were still eddies of people around every set of elevators, and the hospital, like almost every other hospital in existence, was a rather labyrinthine building, with hallways that wound in ways that felt nearly impossible for a building that was a perfect box. Moreover, there were signs on every corner -- no longer made to look like street signs but colorful and plentiful nonetheless, and whenever he paused to read them, it took an average of three seconds for a hospital employee -- whether a scrubs-clad nurse or a physician in a white coat -- to stop and inquire about his destination. By the time he had had made it across the building, having passed no less than a dozen elevators and made three sharp turns, he was nearly at his wits' end, hallucinating being hauled away by the Ootori family police force every time someone turned their head to look at him.

And then it came into view. Like a giant, glowing godsend framed in brown. Psychiatry. Except -- the door was locked, and there was a thick glass wall cutting the hallway in half, with a doorway framed in steel. When he got close, he saw the door bore a paper sign that read "Keep closed to prevent evasion."

Hikaru pressed his fingers against the panel, drawing a ragged breath, and watched it settle on the glass.

Okay. He was there. Now what. As his heart slowed down, he slowly realized that for once there was nobody in sight -- only faint echoes muted by the carpeted hallway. Yes, somehow the hallway had turned to carpet and he hadn't even noticed. Behind the glass, green-clad figures moved to and fro as if in slow motion, and Hikaru began to feel the tightness in his throat subside, for, barring the echoes from the elevator lobby and the whoosh-whoosh of a vacuum cleaner somewhere like a million miles away, there was no means by which to tell the time. 

"Um, excuse me?"

Hikaru's breath froze in his lungs. The door had opened in his face -- though he couldn't recall when it happened, and he found himself face to face with a thick-set, brown-eyed, youngish -- nurse? Yes, probably a nurse, with straight bangs and a bit of extra fluff around the jowls. She had just emerged with the pale-green miasma of the lockdown unit still around her, and her coal-like little eyes were firmly fixed on Hikaru, the edges drooping with a stoic lack of sleep.

"I -- er..." His throat grew dry and his palms grew wet. He tried to swallow, but his throat refused to move.

The nurse's eyes darted down to his wrist, which bore no hospital bracelet.

"I'm uh... I'm from the Teens' Day Program, and I just... Took a wrong turn. That's all." 

The nurse pulled her lips together ever so slightly.

"The day program is on the other side of wing D."

"Uh, several wrong turns, then?" 

"Here, why don't I take you back over there -- so you don't get lost again." The nurse arched her eyebrow and gave the smallest wave with her hand -- which Hikaru noticed bore a gold tennis bracelet that razzed the eye. She had the slightest twang in her voice -- and otherwise sounded like she had several kids at home and used the exact same voice with them. Hikaru nodded, this time succeeding in swallowing.

"Come on."

She began to walk, and Hikaru followed down the hall, feeling an odd flavor of elation along with a distinct feeling that the walls were riddled with land-mines. He felt his feet trailing behind his torso, and all he could do was thank his lucky stars that the nurse walked slowly and with a bit of a waddle -- otherwise, his feet might have gotten tied in a knot.

"Miss Misaki, looks like I've got one of yours here." 

Hikaru was not sure how far they had gone, but he snapped to just as the woman stopped but what looked like a nurse's station -- wood-paneled like the ones downstairs, though for her it ended at chest-level. 

"Oh, Hitachiin, yes" -- the girl behind the counter sat up a bit, flashing a pretty smile. She had a perky, high ponytail and earrings like peppermint-swirls. "Thank you, Miss Sato." The gave a sunny smile to her colleague, who looked disappointed that the younger woman had not been on as high alert as she was. "You should get back to class, Hitachiin-kun" -- the perky-haired girl said. "You don't want Sensei getting upset -- she comes all the way out here just for all of you, you know." She gestured in the direction of a small hallway leading to a sitting room -- this one a bit more cheery, with friendlier lighting and pictures with framed flowers under glass. Miss Sato pulled her lips a little tighter, making herself look like a chipmunk, and Hikaru turned his feet in the direction the secretary had pointed in. He began to walk away, and breathed out with relief when he saw that the sitting-room -- with its square, blocky furniture reminiscent of Ikea -- had another hallway coming off the side.

He turned the corner, walked a few more steps, and slumped against the wall.

Okay. Breathe.

He was in. Somehow, he had gotten in. Of course, the stakes were a good deal higher now, but...

Kaoru. Kaoru was yards -- perhaps feet -- away. Somewhere. He might have been behind any of these doors, and Hikaru felt his chest grow tight at the thought.

In all the days he had spent watching him walk between the car to the hospital, he hadn't even begin to think owhat he might say to him. And, oddly enough, now that he was closer than he had been in weeks, all he wanted was to sink against the wall and bury his head in his knees.

"Hikaru?"

The older twin froze, unable to look up.

"How did you... get here?"

It was Kaoru. Or, rather, it was Kaoru's voice alright, except -- somehow lacking in the Kaoru-ness of it.

Hikaru looked up.

Kaoru was looking down at him with a wan expression. Not that the younger twin had ever been easy to read, but "drained" might have been a better word it. He seemed to be wearing no expression at all, and only the condyles sticking out under his sleeves revealed a certain kind of sadness.

"You... Should go. You'll get into trouble." 

Hikaru felt his heart twist. It wasn't even the way Kaoru spoke -- just the way his eyes seemed so empty. As if he was trying not to look at Hikaru at all. 

Hikaru felt his words congeal in his throat. 

Kaoru stood only a few feet away, but it felt like he could run for a thousand years and still not gotten any closer to him. Everything around him felt suddenly huge and heavy, and his tongue felt as brittle as granite in his mouth.

"Kaoru, please," he whispered. "Just -- two minutes. That's all I need. I'll go after that. I promise."

Kaoru's expression did not change, but neither did he move. Hikaru felt like everything was imploding. His back grew moist against the wall and something cold settled in his stomach.

"Kaoru, I... I know everything" -- he began, the muscles of his throat seizing up. "I know what I am. I know what I did. I know why Kyouya took you away -- and he was right to do it. But... I want you to have this."

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket -- folded in fours, its corners furry from sweat.

"I... know you might not be ready to see me for a while -- maybe a really long time. But please. Just... Just, please take it... Take it and use it however you want."

He held out the piece of paper. Kaoru hesitated. Hikaru had been looking down, unblinking - trying to save the tears by giving them a bigger surface to cling to, but he couldn't stand it any longer and closed his eyes, the wetness swelling around his lashes.

Please. Take it.

Hikaru wasn't sure by dint of what force he was able to keep upright. All he wanted was to fall and cling to his brother's feet.

"Okay." 

He felt the piece of paper pulled from his fingers.

"But you should really go."

Hikaru nodded, and took a spasmodic breath -- this time unable to suppress the wheeze.

"You shouldn't be here. I don't know how you even got in in the first place."

"I'm sorry." Hikaru licked his lips, fixing his eyes firmly on his shoes and clenching his fists. "We've got to change clothes, though. The girl at the front -- she thinks I'm you. I can't go back out there like this."

"Well, I'm not changing in the same bathroom as you. Sorry. And I don't want to smell you on me."

Hikaru's upper lip curled into an unwilling grimace.

Kaoru pondered for a moment and tapped his foot.

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. You're going to be me for the day."

"Wha --" 

"You heard right. You're going to go in there -- last door on the left -- and tell them you stepped out to change clothes because the ones you were wearing weren't warm enough. They tend to crank up the air A/C in here anyway, so it's fine. Who's at the desk right now -- the girl with the high ponytail?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Okay. Good. I can deal with her."

"O-okay."

"Just don't talk too much. Say you're not up to it today. Just lie low -- then you can go back home at the end of the day."

Kaoru's tone had grown managerial, and Hikaru glanced up to see him standing with his arms across his chest. The lights buzzed lightly overhead, and Hikaru wanting to cry again -- and vomit repeatedly.  
"I think it'll be... educational for you."

Hikaru nodded, dazed, and began to inch himself up the wall. 

"Go on." 

Kaoru nodded in the direction of the door. Hikaru straightened up. He cast one look at his brother, but Kaoru did not move, and if Hikaru thought he wanted to die before, right then it felt like he had gotten his wish, but death was not what it was cracked up to be.


	6. Welcome to the Day

Kaoru walked briskly down the hall -- away from the main lobby and towards the revolving doors. He had dealt successfully with She of the High Ponytail, having waited a respectable amount of time in the alcove and then parted his hair the opposite way, strolling by just as she returned. Predictably, she had looked a little perplexed, but he was quick to flash a smile and, in a slightly lower voice than his own, informed her that he was Kaoru's brother, and that he had come by to drop off some things.

And now he was walking away, leaving Sensei and Wing D and the downstairs lobby behind him. Earlier, it had been a pale day, and everything had looked like it was inside a cloud, but now the mists were beginning to clear, and the sun was like a pearl, cloaked yet radiant among the wisps of clouds. 

As Kaoru emerged into the square with its molting sakura and benches, he had a mind to get into Hikaru's car and drive to school. But no: school was still his brother's turf, even when he wasn't there, and besides, it had been too long. He took one look at the limousine, chuckling under his breath as he caught sight of Tanaka -- reading the newspaper the way he usually did, with pages strewn all over the dashboard. The old man didn't look up, and Kaoru turned and began to walk, popping his iPod into his ears.

It was getting close to lunch time, and most of the eateries were opening up their doors. The smell of curry wafted into the street past a canvas partition, and Kaoru contemplated going inside.

In fact, why not? His mother was always worried about going places unescorted -- she didn't like her picture taken, and she didn't like the stares. But for once, Kaoru couldn't see the harm. After all, how many people knew fashion so well that they'd recognize Yuzuha's children on sight, especially when said children didn't have much to recommend them?

He pushed aside the canvas, and stepped inside. 

Inside, it was considerably warmer, despite the lack of a proper door. In fact, Kaoru had been underdressed for the weather, but the long, shiny diner-counter and the white, spotless tabletops emanated a welcoming warmth. The place was nearly empty, the only customers an older gentleman in a hat, and a couple of teenagers with their caps turned to the side. Kaoru scanned the place for a register or someone taking orders, but both functions seemed to be fulfilled by a contraption like a vending machine, which showed pictures of food and delivered receipts to be handed to the cooks once the right amount of cash was deposited**.

But Kaoru did not have any cash. In fact, no one he knew ever carried cash, so he sighed and turned away. The man in the hat, hunched like a stout little badger over his bowl, looked up at Kaoru as he passed, but the Hitachiin made a beeline for the door without a backward glance. His stomach rumbled as he stepped outside. He had never been much good at eating in the morning -- he always felt nauseous for the first hour or two -- which meant that by 11 o'clock, he was always hungry.

He popped his music back into his ears, and the Gorillaz drowned out noise of the thoroughfare. He walked for a few more blocks, and if not for the hunger in his stomach, he might have been happy to go on forever with guitars on his brain and his eyes on the horizon. It was even getting warmer, and the sun was gathering strength. But then he came upon a crosswalk, and beyond it lay a bridge over a river, along with a cheery convenient store. Kaoru stepped inside, and, sure enough, there was an ATM**. He bought himself a packaged sandwich and some tea, and headed for the river.

(**Most transactions in Japan, especially at lower-end establishments, are conducted in cash.)

The banks of the river sloped towards the water, and the grass rippled in the breeze. The traffic hummed over the bridge, and the city stretched on either side of the waterway, busy and huddled and painted with pastel stripes. The river was wide, with barges passing now and then, but Kaoru could still see a balcony across the way, with laundry flapping in the breeze. He closed his eyes and leaned back on his elbows, taking a bite of his sandwich. It wasn't half-bad. The salad was even quite tasty, and it was nice to smell the water and the grass.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. If the sun had moved, he hadn't noticed. Two girls with bentos came out of a building -- probably on break from work -- and settled a few steps from Kaoru. One smiled and gave a wave, and Kaoru smiled back at them.

...

When Hikaru stepped into the classroom, the first thing he saw was a group of ten-or-so morose-looking teenagers with their eyes on their feet or staring out the window. The sun was filtering through the blinds, and there was so much white that there was nowhere to hide. One of the boys gazed at his hands with the unmistakeable air of a GameBoy addict who had his treasure taken away and his thumbs chopped off for his money.

"I, er, was cold," Hikaru blurted out before anyone could ask. He cleared his throat, and noticed that there were two empty seats, both with textbooks on the desks.

"Well, Hitachiin" -- said Sensei, a portly, chipper, middle-aged woman with pearl earrings and a short, permed weave. "Since you're up, why don't you solve the next problem on the board?" 

"Uh... okay. Which problem?"

"The next one. Number sixteen. Here." She began to read the problem out loud, pausing to glance over her glasses when she saw that Hikaru had not moved.

"Please, Tono**, while we're young," she said, winking and gesturing with her eyes towards the board. In the mouth of anyone else, the words might have easily sounded derisive, but Sensei was far too roly-poly and far too endowed with the energy of a much younger woman to mean much harm.

(** Tono can be roughly translated as "my lord." Although an archaic term, it is frequently used ironically, or to designate one of equivalent rank but higher seniority compared to the speaker.)

Hikaru stepped towards the board and took up a dry-erase marker. He began copying down the words, and once Sensei was done dictating, he set about working the problem. The equation was an easy one -- something they'd done at Ouran months ago. As a result, he was done in two minutes flat, and turned around, brushing invisible dust off his hands.

"Well, good, Hitachiin. Very good," said Sensei, running her eyes over his work. "I have nothing to add. See, I told you -- you can do anything if you put your mind to it. Even integrals."

Hikaru chuckled and walked back to his seat -- having decided, on a whim, that Kaoru must have sat next to the mousy boy who met him by the entrance. 

"Alright" -- Sensei clapped her hands. "Does anyone else want to volunteer as tribute, or will there be another reaping? Remember, the sooner we get through this, the sooner we can go outside and have literature class. Unfortunately, the powers that be won't let us take this board outside."

As predicted, there were no volunteers, so Sensei pulled a piece of paper from a box on her desk.

"Right. Toyama. You're up."

Toyama turned out to be the morose kid who looked like his thumbs had been chopped off. He dragged himself from his chair with all the enthusiasm as a fluish turtle.

"What's the point, anyway?" -- he muttered. "Pretty boy over there probably has rich parents who can buy him into college. He just has to know how to add. My parents are poor and I'll never get shit out of life."

Sensei sighed. For a few seconds, she seemed at a loss.

"Look, Toyama," she said at last. "I agree. Math is hard, and many of us are never going to use after high school. But that's the point. There are lots of things in life that seem stupid and pointless at the time, but you just have to get through them. Just think of this as tolerance training, and we'll help you along the way."

Toyama muttered something under his breath and dragged his feet to the board. Sensei held out the dry-erase marker with a businesslike air.

"Alright, let's break it down. First step is?"

"Ionno, draw a picture?" Toyama blinked at the board like a cow at a fence.

"That's the second step. First step is to write down all the important parameters. Let me read the problem to you, and we can decide together which parameters are important together."

The lesson went on, and ordinarily Hikaru might have zoned out, but his bewilderment kept him alert. After all, he hadn't exactly expected this. Not only had he seen his brother for the first time in weeks -- an encounter that in itself was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole and die, but he was also starting to feel palpably anxious about portraying Kaoru. Not that he was nervous about being caught, no. He didn't expect this crew of depressives and this put-upon schoolteacher to be attuned to any subtleties in mannerisms. It was more the realization that Kaoru now spent eight hours a day with this group of intensely woebegone people, and that he, Hikaru, was the one who'd put him there.

To take his mind off things, Hikaru tried to focus on the proceedings, and gradually it became clear that poor Sensei had long ago given up on keeping pace with any actual curriculum. Everyone in the room was so dejected and depressed that getting even one of person engage was a small triumph.

To that end, she had a different approach with every student. With Kaoru she had taken the tone of gentle teasing. With Toyama, she was more sober, and approached her task like she was teaching him to walk on a tightrope. With Nitori, the mousy boy who came up next, she invoked audience participation, which seemed to cheer him up a bit. And with Aya-chan, a small girl who sat with her hood over her head and her desk facing the wall, Sensei was more strict, having apparently despaired in the effectiveness of anything but the most crude, if-then logic.

And after math was over, it got worse. Literature class, as promised, was held on a terrace overlooking the city, but everyone was just as morose as ever. The lesson consisted of Sensei reading Junichiro Tanizaki out loud and asking for "reactions," and Hikaru might have laughed if it wasn't all so sad. The only hopeful part came when Nitori sidled up and proposed a game of ping-pong, which Hikaru happily accepted -- for in truth he had been worried. He realized he had nothing to go on when it came to Kaoru's relationships in this place -- but ping-pong, at the end of the day, was just ping-pong.

That said, he couldn't get much out of Nitori either. Between hustles and grunts, it was mostly gossip with the mousy boy -- everything from how long he reckoned Aya-chan had been there, to how he thought long she would be there, to what they did to people who didn't improve, and the fact that Misaki-san was leaving to have a baby. He also, oddly enough, kept calling Hikaru "senpai," and looking at him in ways that might have been unsettling if Hikaru were entirely straight.

After lunch, they had group therapy in a similar, all-white classroom. That day, it was something called "projection therapy," which consisted of watching an episode of Welcome to the NHK -- a show about a hikikomori** named Sato, his otaku** neighbor Yamazaki, and a young high school girl who was trying to "save" him. Afterwards, the group leader, predictably, asked for "reactions," and Nitori -- who despite his neediness was the closest thing the group had to a "token lively kid" -- was the first to raise his hand.

(**Hikikomori - A tendency among young people to withdraw from society and avoid leaving their homes, sometimes for years at a time. A well-recognized phenomenon in contemporary Japan.)

(**Otaku - one inordinately fixated on a specific fandom, often eschewing real-life social interaction in favor of their obsession.)

"I think they did a good job." He smiled pleasantly, showing off the mole on his cheekbone. "I thought the portrayal of a panic attack when he went to his friend's school was very accurate."

Hikaru blinked his eyes, trying to imagine Nitori having a panic attack. He couldn't. The kid was a jumpy one, to be sure, but the show's warped silhouettes, along with the images of a world imploding, were far too stylized for his tastes.

Aya-chan nodded.

"I don't know," another girl said. "I'm still not sure if they're trying to raise awareness about hikikomori, or making fun of them."

"Well, yes, the point of a film isn't always obvious," said the group leader. "That's why we're discussing it." He was a young man in his 30's with chin-length hair and square glasses, and might have been a filmmaker himself in a past life. "What do you think -- how do you see it?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know. Obviously, the whole thing about a conspiracy to create hikikomori is kind of ridiculous. I mean, if that's really what he thinks, he's probably got paranoid schizophrenia or something. I mean, his appliances talk to him and stuff -- I don't think that's just a symbol."

"Yeah, but not all hikikomori are like that," Nitori chimed in, his voice mildly indignant. "I mean, it's hard to accept that you're never going to be the best -- that you're never going to reach your goals." He paused. He had a very pronounced shota voice, and his bottom lip had a tendency to quiver like Honey-senpai's. "I mean... I don't consider myself to be anything like that, and I'm still --"

Hikaru had had enough. Unlike the others, he hadn't connected with Sato's character at all, and was growing tired of the circus.

"Oh, give me a break" -- he spat. "Sato's not mentally ill, he's just an immature idiot. He can't face the truth, so he makes up stupid theories so he won't have to take responsibility. I mean, how hard can it be to find a part-time job? You don't even have to be the best -- I mean, if all you want to do is sit on your ass, that's fine. You don't need a million yen to not do shit. You can work four hours a day and still do that. In fact, I'll bet none of this would've happened if his parents didn't enable him for four whole years --"

"Yeah, you're a fine one to talk, boy toy."

"Huh?" 

Hikaru spun around -- though he didn't need to. Toyama's ill-concealed guile was back in all its glory.

"Have you ever tried to find a part time job? Have you lived off a part time job? Have you ever even owned anything that wasn't your parents' ?"

Hikaru stared at the boy, desperately racking his brain as to how he could have learned that Kaoru were rich. After all, Toyama didn't look like he knew his Hitachiins from his Chanels, and the younger twin didn't normally flaunt his origins.

"Look, this isn't about me" -- he replied. "All I'm saying is that if you're going to spend all day feeling sorry for yourself, then it's definitely never gonna get better for you. I mean, it's not like anything ever happened to Sato -- he didn't screw up or anything -- he just gave up. No one was looking at him funny -- it was all just in his head, and about ninety five percent of the time, I'm pretty sure that's exactly how it is."

Hikaru paused, breathing hard. All day -- though hadn't wanted to admit it -- he had been growing angrier and angrier. Not because he felt like a fish out of water, no, but rather because he couldn't see how any of this was supposed to help Kaoru. The dumb "art therapy" that Nitori was so fond of, the slow-as-molasses math class, the sitting around and analyzing stupid anime with a crop of broken toys who belonged in the rubbish-heap of humanity. None of this was ever going to help Kaoru get better, and it wasn't about to fix the rift between them.

Toyama, to his credit, was unfazed by the outburst. 

"Oh yeah?" He sniffed. "Well, maybe if you're so smart you can start by getting out of your own head and heading back to school, eh? Whatever it was that happened to you can't be that bad, right? And by the way, what was it again that happened to you again?"

"Alright, alright, gentlemen, that's enough" -- the leader waved his hand with a significant raise of the eyebrows. "Let's get back on topic, shall we?"

Toyama cocked his head with a smirk, and Hikaru wrinkled his nose and he sank back in his seat.

"I don't know," he grumbled. "I just don't know how any of this is supposed to help. I get depressed just looking at you people."


	7. Lavender Fields Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Kyouya's raging allergies and the lavender scent in Kyouya's mother's hospital room are headcanons originally formulated by tumblr user Nonaltruism. I merely agreed that they fit Kyouya's story and personality, and expanded upon them somewhat. The other notions surrounding lavender in this chapter are wholly mine.

After that night, it was decided that Kaoru would move in with Kyouya. A second bed was brought into the room, and Kyouya did not mind at all, for his loft was spacious. There was plenty of room to go around, and plenty of folding-screens for privacy. Besides, it was comfortable being around Kaoru, for the two of them were very much alike. If Kaoru needed something, he would say it; otherwise, he was quiet and calm, and if he wasn't saying much then you could bet that he had gone deep inside himself, and would re-appear only at his convenience.

The only trouble came whenever Kyouya realized that he arrangement sent his thoughts in untoward directions a little too often. His entire life to date have been an exercise in keeping his emotions cordoned off, and it had been difficult enough to accept that tangents were a natural part of human thinking. In the end, he had succeeded in accepting at least that much, and had even come to embrace them, but this... This was ridiculous. Kaoru could be sprawled upon the bed, a book sagging from his hands, fully clothed and hardly mischievous at all - and Kyouya's mind would still go running to the future, several years hence when the worst would be over, and he'd be nervously confessing to Kaoru - invariably on some outlook 500 meters up in the air.

At that point, a certain part of Kyouya would invariably salute, and he would have to breathe heavily and count doubles just to get rid of it. By the end of the day, he was generally so pent-up that he was counting seconds until a socially acceptable time to take a shower.

But showering was also a problem. For one thing, it wasn't like he'd never fantasized about the Hitachiin before. But he had also never had to face him moments after coming out of the shower. To that end, Kyouya would spend many minutes with his back against the tiles - even after he was done, breathing heavily and hoping Kaoru would not notice. And on top of that, Kyouya was shocked to discover that his sperm would change consistency in the bath, turning into a globby, congealed mess the moment it hit the water. It took ages to wash the stuff down the drain, which meant that there was yet another thing to be planning ahead for.

But it was still a small price to pay, for Kyouya enjoyed coming home every day to find Kaoru. It was nice to know that Kaoru was safe - from himself as well as from others - and that if something went wrong, Kyouya would be the first to know.

That day, however, Kyouya had gotten home and Kaoru was not there. The maid informed him that Kaoru had gone out into the garden, and while Kyouya did not normally like to spent much time outside, he immediately put down his books and rushed to the recreated prairie. Once past the ring of cypresses that encircled the house, he cast his eyes over the billowing grasses. The hour was such that the air above the "prairie" was a cacophony of bees and cicadas, and Kaoru was nowhere to be seen - though in places the grass grew thigh-high and Kyouya remained optimistic. He stepped into the grass and began to walk, and sure enough a path soon emerged, and the grass grew shorter. The hum of insects rose above the noise of a highway far away, and a few minutes passed before Kyouya spied Kaoru's ginger top through a clump of bluegrass.

The younger Hitachiin was sitting in a plot of lavender perhaps one tsubo in size**, and looked up at Kyouya as if he'd been expecting him.

(**Tsubo - a measurement of area roughly equivalent to 35 square feet, or the size of two tatami mats.)

"Kaoru. What are you doing here?" Kyouya tried to make his tone as casual as possible.

Kaoru shrugged.

"I like it here. It's peaceful."

"How was school?"

"Okay. I didn't really go today, though."

Kyouya's shoulders sank. The smell of lavender was harsh and acrid and merciless, and forced its way up his nostrils. He tried not to breathe, but to no avail. He might as well have brought a bottle of essence to his face and tried to avoid the smell.

Kaoru looked down, toying with a lavender stem. Kyouya noticed a smattering of freckles on the younger boy's shoulders.

"Kaoru. Come on. You have to go." The buzz of the insects grew, and he felt the hatchings of a migraine. "Look, I know it's hard and I know some of the things they do might feel pointless to you right now -"

"Hikaru came to see me."

"Hikaru?"

"Yes. I kind of couldn't stay after that."

"Oh. I... see. Well, we won't let that happen again. Are you doing alright?"

Kaoru nodded.

"Okay, good. Let's get you back in the house."

Kyouya's eyelids were starting to sting. Spring always made him positively miserable. He tried not to let it show, staying indoors as much as he could and controlling his allergies with pills, shots, and various traditional remedies, but the fact remained. The longer he spent in the vicinity of pollen, the more anxious he became, knowing full well that it was only a matter of time before his immune system bailed on him, and he would have to hold on to his socks to keep from drowning in a flood of mucous secretions.

"Kaoru, let's go," he repeated. "I don't like lavender."

Kaoru looked up and blinked his eyes - rather like a large, orange cat.

"Well, then why can't I stay here by myself? I'll come back inside soon, don't worry. I'm just tired of being cooped up all day."

Kyouya sighed. The itch in his eyes was traveling down his sinuses, and his brain was growing foggy. He had the distinct sensation that the air was more pollen-dust than air, and that every breath he took dragged him closer to his grave.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you here."

"Why not? What's the worst that could happen?" Kaoru glanced at the solid block fence that separated the estate from the road.

"I... don't know."

The smell of lavender was everywhere. It clogged Kyouya's nose, stopped his throat, stuffed his ears, covered his eyes, and stuck to the insides of his eyelids. The sun was billowing hard from above, and even closing his eyes brought no relief.

"Look, Hikaru's not going to come here. He just came to give me something, and he said he'll stay away from now on."

"Oh." Kyouya furrowed his brow. "What did he give you?"

Lavender. Now he remembered why he so disliked the plant. It was not a smell he encountered often - Fuyumi never wore it, and he rarely got close to anyone else. One of the pictures in the foyer had a field of lavender on it, with an abbey in the background. Kyouya had always thought that it was odd - and something bothered him about it. It didn't seem natural, and then there was the other picture, too - the one opposite the door - or had been there, for years. A picture of a young, almost familiar-looking woman with light hair and a swath of lavender in the background.

Kaoru held out a piece of paper and Kyouya took it from him.

It took a moment for his vision to focus, and a few more seconds before the pen strokes made any sense.

I, Hikaru Hitachiin, did force myself sexually on my brother, Kaoru Hitachiin, at approximately 11 p.m. on the night of April 15 -

Kyouya ran his eyes over the rest. It seemed like the note went on to describe, in graphic detail, just what had happened, and Kyouya swallowing drily.

"Kaoru, are you sure you want me to read this?"

Kaoru shrugged. "If you want to."

Kyouya folded the paper and handed it back.

The note was not only signed, but stamped with Hikaru's seal. Everyone in their caste had a seal of their own - even high school students - and that made the letter an official document. Under the circumstances, it was all that Kyouya that needed to know.

"So what do you want to do now?"

"I don't know," Kaoru shrugged again, his face sad among the lavender. "I kind of think I might want to go away for a while. I don't really know where to, though."

...

Kyouya and Kaoru were sitting cross-legged in the foyer, on the first floor of Kyouya's wing. They were drinking tea.

In her last months, Kyouya's mother had spent most of her time at the hospital. Kyouya must have been two or three at the time, and his siblings were in their teens. Fuyumi would bring him to the hospital after school, and Kyouya did not understand what was going on, and barely associated the pale, gaunt face with the concept of "mother." She reached out and pet his head, but all he remembered was how cold it felt, and how it seemed to be made of knots. She did not say much, and there was a black and purple scarf around her head. Kyouya did not like to be there, for the room always smelled of antiseptic. Dark, harsh, lavender-scented antiseptic. In retrospect, he realized it was probably the only thing that covered up the smell, but back then all he remembered was how happy he had been to get out of there.

Indoors, it was darker and cooler, even though the wall was bathed in light. The tea was green and clear, and you could see the bottoms of the cups.

"You know, summer vacation's coming up," Kyouya remarked, watching Kaoru reach for a Turkish delight. "We could go away somewhere."

"Oh, where?" Kaoru looked up, his arm across the table.

"Anywhere you want. Father will let us vacation by ourselves."

Kaoru glanced down chewing on his lower lip. Now that they were inside, the coquettish freckles - like little bees - were gone from his shoulders, and his auburn hair had an darker tinge to it. Kyouya adjusted his legs. Great. Now that they were out of the heat, he was right back to thinking untoward thoughts about Kaoru's collarbones.

"I think it would be nice to get away," he added. "Something to look forward to. It sounds like moving across town might not be enough, under the circumstances."

He took another look at the Hitachiin as the latter scraped his fork against the side of his cake. The wall was one solid piece of glass, but the sun still lay in corrugated patterns across the carpet.

"Yeah, I guess not." Kaoru gave a small chuckle.

"If you like lavender so much, we can go to the south of France."

Kaoru raised his eyes.

"But you don't like like lavender. You looked like you were allergic to it out there."

"Oh, it's no trouble. I'm allergic to many things. I can just take some extra precautions ahead of time." Kyouya's eyebrows gave a small bounce. "After all, it's not like you're tripping over lavender fields when you're there. They do sell lavender-scented soaps on every corner, but that's about the extent of it. And it does seem like you're enjoying working with Mademoiselle Martin."

Mademoiselle Martin was Kaoru's French tutor. The day program only offered English, and not even at the level that Ouran had.

Previously, Kyouya had not known much about the twin's academic performance. The only clue he ever got was when they staged a fight for the Host Club the previous year, and while he might have probed the topic further, on the subject of the Hosts' private lives he was of the same mind as Tamaki - namely, that unless it concerned the business of the club, such things were nobody's business. Still, the twins never struck Kyouya as particularly academic, and so he was quite surprised when one of first things to make Kaoru smile became the semi-daily arrival of the doe-eyed Canadian who taught him French and English. Indeed, far from falling behind in school, the tutor setup seemed to be doing Kaoru good, for whenever the tutors came the twin went from his usual, maudlin self to quite engaged - sometimes for hours. But Mlle Martin was still a special case, for whenever the other tutors left, Kaoru would invariably put away his books and get to flipping through TV channels, while after a French lesson he would stay up for hours, reading original texts and copying words into his notebook.

"Yeah. I like it." Kaoru nodded. "Though I guess it's different now because with the tutors, there's finally someone who cares." He crushed off a piece of pastry. "I mean, if I don't get things right, they get disappointed. Especially Mlle Martin. She gets really disappointed." Kaoru's features shifted into a sheepish expression, as if he was talking about a favorite Host Club guest.

"I see."

Kaoru smiled into his cup.

"Before, nobody cared. And I mean, maybe they were right. Maybe there's no point. Maybe you don't need to go above and beyond when you're just going to spend your life sewing buttons in your mother's atelier."

"Sewing... buttons?"

"Well, I don't know." The side of Kaoru's mouth gave a twitch. "I guess my mom just doesn't think I have what it takes to go into management. That's why she's always making sure that Hikaru reaches his goals, whereas I'm just kind of... there. I'm the 'good one.' The one who stays out of sight and keeps everybody else sane."

Kyouya blinked his eyes. The twin had scraped the powdered sugar off his confection, and was pushing it into a pile. For as long as Kyouya could remember, his father's standards had been clear: anything less than the best was not good enough, and even that was just a springboard. Frustrating through it was that his father expected things he couldn't even define, giving up was an entirely alien concept.

"Well," he said, taking a sip of tea. "If you can learn a language really well, at least that's a skill that not everyone has, and it could come in useful. Come on." He stretched out a hand. "Why don't we go to the South of France. Côte d'Azur. Father took us on a business trip several years ago, and I've always wanted to go back."

Kaoru looked up from his plate.

"You can practice your French, and come back speaking even better for Mlle Martin. We can go see the lavender, and Nice, and the Promenade des Anglais -"

"Promenade dez-ang-lay" - Kaoru corrected with a giggle.

"Dez-ang-lay, yes." Kyouya nodded indulgently. "See, this is why I need you to come. I'm hopeless when the whole point of a language is to omit half the letters." As with most things, the mispronunciation was a carefully planted ploy, in this case to give Kaoru something to feel good about. "And then there's a castle town called Eze, right in the mountains half an hour's drive away from the city. We went for about a day, seeing how it's got a local perfume industry and Fuyumi insisted, but a lot of people have their villas up there too, so I could see myself exploring it some more."

He pulled out his laptop and clicked for a few seconds, turning the screen towards Kaoru. The younger twin saw a picture of Kyouya and his sister - ten years older but a good head shorter - against a beautiful blue bay, cradled between the arms of a coast. White sailboats dotted the azure waves, and a village of stone clung to the sides of an emerald mountain. Kaoru could almost feel the sun on his own cheeks.

"Okay." He nodded. Kyouya, he had to own, looked a great deal happier in the picture than he ever did in real life, even behind his sunglasses. "But isn't it a bit too much for you to go out of your way like this? I mean, you've already done so much."

"Not at all." Kyouya shook his head. "To be honest, I could use something to look forward to myself. Academics-wise, this year has certainly been no picnic." He pulled the laptop towards himself, clicking pensively for a few more moments before taking another drag of tea. "We can even drive inland and find you a lavender field," he added with a smile. "And it won't be a tatami-sized plot, either; it'll be whole fields of lavender, as far as the eye can see - though personally I've always thought that that much purple was a bit unnatural."

...

Yoshio Ootori no longer spent much time at home, and when he did, he spent it in his study, and rarely saw his family. Not that they needed him anymore - two out of four had moved out of the house, and Kyouya would be graduating soon. Moreover, over the years his disciplinary methods had had the desired outcome: namely, his children were now policing themselves, and he was free to sit back and enjoy what he and his friends liked to call parenting cruise control. That said, now that Yuzuha's son was staying with them, Yoshio took up dropping in by Kyouya's wing every day after work, and that evening, a curious sound met his ears before he was halfway down the hall.

Fuyumi had often remarked that the house had grown quieter after Mother had passed. To that, Yoshio had had nothing to say. Quiet was quiet, after all - not much he could do about that. Fuyumi was always complaining, though - since Mother passed this, since Mother passed that; it took a few years for her to fall silent. That said, he had come to understand Fuyumi's feelings entirely too well - and entirely too late - once Kaoru came to stay, for it turned out that in the years since Yoshio saw Yuzuha's twins socially, Kaoru had come to look unsettlingly like his aunt.

Aunt? Well, no, not aunt. Technically, the Ootori matriarch and Yuzuha had been cousins, and when Yoshio married his late wife, the infamous Yuzuha had still been a child. In the end, especially after Satomi passed, there hadn't been much family feeling between the two clans, and yet the Ainu blood flowed so strong in the Hitachiin veins that Yoshio found it hard to look at Kaoru the first few days. In fact, he even had to put away the single picture that he still kept of his wife - the one that spent several years in the foyer and then moved into the study - the picture of her when she was still young and free, and still the beautiful, affectionate woman who insisted on stupid, lovely, harmless things, like turning the entirety of the property into a field of lavender.

Yoshio approached the door on tiptoe, and peered in through the crack. Akito, Kyouya, and the redheaded Hitachiin twin were sitting at a low table. A large board game lay spread before them - from where Yoshio stood, it looked like Risk. All three were staring at the pieces with obsessive intensity, and their voices floated past the sliding doors, laced with laughter and mock-antipathy.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't you dare-" Kyouya was chuckling. "I see you reaching-"

"Oh, what, WHAT?!"

"Oh, sure, Akito, go ahead and play innocent. Because we all know those troops appeared on the border of Afghanistan when I got up to go to the bathroom all on their own."

"Oh, that's right, call the kettle black. Because you're totally not in league with Mr. Red Spread over there - I see you two making eyes."

"Making eyes?! What are you on about?!"

"Yeah, Akito," added Kaoru, giggling. "Maybe you should just give up. All you have is like five troops in the Ukraine."

"I can make a comeback" - Akito puffed out a lip.

"Right. Sleep first and then dream."

"Yeah, the Ukraine is weak!"

"HEY!" - Akito brandished a finger. "You better be glad we're not on the New York Subway right now, with some large offended Ukranian man to knock over the game board!"

Yoshio chuckled and turned away. It seemed, for better or for worse, he had been wrong about women in business. Whatever their other flaws, sometimes the fallback of their disastrous parenting was just what the doctor ordered.


	8. Eze

"Boys, I am so jealous of you." Fuyumi had folded Kyouya's shirt into a neat square, tucking the sleeves behind the back. "You know, I've been to a lot of places, but the south of France will always be my favorite."

Kyouya chuckled indulgently. The floor was covered with piles and piles of clothes, and although they were only going for two week, it seemed like Fuyumi had foreseen every possible scenario - from white-tie parties to an attack of the indomitable Snowman.

"You know, you don't have to help us pack," Kyouya said with a smile. Exams were over for the semester, and he was noticeably more relaxed, having draped his arms over the back of the couch and thrown his head back. "I'm sure the maids can handle it just fine."

"Yeah," added Kaoru. "You should relax while you're here. Don't you get to do enough of this kind of thing at home?"

"Nonsense," Fuyumi clicked her tongue, patting down her latest folding-opus. "I love helping you boys."

Kaoru chuckled sheepishly. It seemed like ever since he arrived, Fuyumi had been making up more and more excuses to visit. One time, she had even returned on account of a lost box of bobby pins, and pulled Kaoru aside to say, "You know, I should thank you. I don't know what led you to coming to stay, but I think it's done Kyouya a great deal of good. I don't think he's ever given this much thought to the well-being of another person, and I haven't heard Akito laugh in quite some time." And she was such a guileless young woman, with pewter eyes just like Kyouya's except a good deal more open, and Kaoru could not help but thank her in return, for in spite of everything he had continued to feel like an imposition, and even Yoshio Ootori pulling him aside to ask him how he was getting on and if everything was to his liking had not changed that.

"You know, I really am jealous, though," Fuyumi added. "Nothing better than two boys off to see the world. I wish I were still at an age when I could just take off..."

"True, except we're not just taking off," said Kyouya - deftly timing his eye-roll as Fuyumi looked away. "We've had this trip planned for weeks, and you can come with us if you like."

"Oh, Kyouya, don't be silly." Fuyumi rolled up a pair of pants, gently tucking it into the suitcase. "You know you don't want an old lady like me tagging along."

"You're twenty-seven."

"You know it's not that." She straightened up, glancing out the window. Outside, the sky spanned an entire wall, and the stars glistened overhead. "You two are still at an age when you have your whole lives ahead of you. You can go anywhere and do anything. If you wanted to, you could even start all over."

"Yeah." Kyouya sniffed, cracking his knuckles behind his neck. "Except I have a feeling father would have a thing or two to say about 'starting over.' He's got our whole lives planned for us, you know, and the only way to beat the system is to do something he would approve, but at a higher level than he thinks is possible."

Fuyumi pursed her lips and did not reply, and all three slipped into silence. Fuyumi went on folding shirts, and Kyouya plunged into his laptop just as Kaoru looked up from his. One more day. Just one more day, and he would gone. Although he had grown indifferent to most things, he would have been lying if he said he wasn't glad. For some odd reason, the last few weeks had been exceedingly lonely, even with Kyouya by his side, and while the hurt of Hikaru's betrayal was starting to ebb, the confession still sat in his desk drawer, untouched and unlooked at, and far from being repulsed, Kaoru had progressed to a sense of hollow grief, for it didn't feel like his brother was a different person anymore - it felt like he had died, and there was nothing hold him back in the places he had known.

...

Eze turned out to be everything Fuyumi had predicted, and more.

That said, accommodation proved an unprecedented problem. Kyouya had long ago decided that he would always read the worst reviews he could find before booking a hotel - and set out to do just that, as soon as they picked their destination. He had always thought that one could tell a lot from a negative review: namely, whether the issue at hand was a matter of lodging characteristics or guest preferences, and in the latter case, whether it was a mismatch of expectations or a gripe he might have shared. To that end, when Kyouya read review after review about "hemorrhaging money" to get even the basics at the Golden Goat - the hotel with the Michelin starred restaurant and the best panoramic views in town, he was not too worried. He had also traveled to Europe before and was very well aware that customer service was not what he was used to. On that note, he had also tried to ignore the comments stating that the staff was rude, as well as the apparent patchy presence of outlets in the bathrooms. After all, the place was a series of converted apartments in a medieval town, and the people who complained that there were too many steps, or that their drain got easily clogged, or that their room was not pram-accessible clearly had no idea what they were getting into. That said, it was still hard to discount the story of a Hawaiian tour guide who had to argue with a concierge for 10 minutes after being stranded with her luggage on the curb, and it was equally difficult to resign one's self to the idea of tourists in the street sounding like they were in your room - with the cherry on top being the piano bar across the way that kept going until the wee hours of the morning. Finally, when he came upon a story of a "tiny balcony with a broken parasol that flew away twice," Kyouya decided that he had had enough, and was about to look into people renting out their villas when a message from Kaoru popped up on the screen.

It turned out that Kaoru had gone off the beaten path and found a bed and breakfast high up in the mountains. It had no negative reviews whatsoever, and was evidently a converted farmhouse rented out by a local that had been recently featured in a issue of Life and Style.

"But Kaoru," Kyouya commented - for Kaoru was seated right across the room, his legs crossed jauntily over a pouf and his laptop on his middle. "Isn't this a bit of a trek from the beach? I thought you wanted a view of the sea - and it looks like you might need a car to get there."

"No you don't." Kaoru flashed a satisfied smile. "There's a bus stop five minutes away."

"A bus stop? Are you sure you're okay with that?" Kyouya disguised his surprise with a smirk. "Are you sure you haven't switched bodies with Tamaki?"

Kaoru shrugged. "Well, it does look like we might have to take a bus around anyway. Eze seems like a complicated place to get around, what with all the levels, and I always get embarrassed when I have to travel and get a chauffeur with all the commoners seeing me."

Kyouya returned to his screen with a bemused chuckle. Though Kaoru's embarrassment at something that was only a natural part of their lives seemed bizarre, as he clicked to a map of the Alps he had to own that the Hitachiin was right - the roadway scheme was more of a relief map than anything, which meant that walking was out of the question, and taking a cab or a limo between Eze-Village and Eze-sur-Mer would surely mark them for what they were - with who knew what consequences.

"Alright," he said. "As you wish. It does look nice and secluded, and it might be a good idea to do something different for a change."

...

Kaoru had not been wrong about the bed and breakfast. Far from having to hemorrhage money to get even the basics, for the modest price that was nearly half of what they would have paid at a hotel they had gotten to know Rose, the proprietor, and she had gone out of her way to make their stay a wonderful one. On the first day, Rose offered them a glass of rosé upon arrival - apparently having forgotten that neither was 18 - and when Kyouya tried to explain as much, she laughed and said "You're in France, darling." She also served freshly baked croissants, pain au chocolat, cantaloupe, and fresh-squeezed orange juice in the garden for breakfast, and even heated up the milk for Kyouya's coffee, and make an effort to speak with him in English where she spoke with Kaoru in French. She also offered rides whenever she could, and was full of recommendations of things to do and local eateries. As for the room itself, it was a section of the house with its own entrance - a set of glass-paned French doors - with lace curtains and wicker furniture, and finely embroidered bedspreads and decor that even Kaoru and Kyouya could not fault, for it echoed both an homage to the original use of the home and a honeymoon sweetness, with its whitewashed textured stone walls and the appliqués of bees on the hand towels.

"Well, this is certainly a piece of heaven on earth," Kyouya said on the third day as the two were lounging in a pair of chaise-longues in the garden, a bed of lavender and mums not too far away and the smell of cedars in the air. The sun was just beginning to sink, and had painted the mountains lavender, blue, and red. "I should put you in charge of finding travel accommodations more often."

"Oh really?" The younger Hitachiin's face poked over the edge of the chair with a feisty grin. "Well, thanks, but I'm kind of surprised you haven't found fault with the wifi yet - it is pretty slow, that's my only complaint."

"Ah, well. I haven't tried to use the wifi. I don't really want to." Kyouya adjusted his hands behind his head. A full day of swimming and sunning had him beat, and he could not have opened his laptop of he tried. The beach, just like everything in Eze, was everything they had hoped for and more - straight out of a Hollywood pirate movie and nestled in a green, picturesque cove, with waters of the clearest blue and boulders perfect for mermaids. It also turned out to be a gay beach, with a defaced sign reading "arret aux putes" instead of "arret de bus" ** and numerous men in harem pants and crop tops. The latter was not something they had gleaned until they descended to the water, and at that point - terrible irony and Kyouya's uncertain sexual orientation aside - it hardly felt like a reason not to stay.

(** "whore stop" instead of "bus stop." )

Kaoru chuckled.

"Hold on, are you serious right now?" - his voice came through the thicket of sleep that had begun to creep around Kyouya's head. "Let me get that on record - where's my magic sound-byte recorder pen: it is 8 pm in France on July 17, and Kyouya does NOT want to use wifi..."

Kyouya smirked and closed his eyes.

After two days of mountain air and surf, Kaoru was smiling so much more already. On top of that, the trip was turning out of be a success, for despite their out of the way lodgings, they had managed to explore the village of Eze and had even dined at the Michelin restaurant. The guidebooks had been right: the views from the cornice were breathtaking, the best in the world - and the sun was already leaving its trace on Kaoru's skin and hair - though Kyouya could only hope would leave its mark on his spirit soon as well.

...

It was early morning, and Kaoru was walking down the parapet with the breeze under his shirt and the sun on his eyelids.

It was only ten o'clock, and all but the most of gung-ho tourists were still asleep or eating a leisurely breakfast. But Kaoru and Kyouya were still jet-lagged and had woken up early, and set off to climb the summit of the castle town and explore a garden of sculptures and succulents.

Kaoru closed his eyes, and pretended that there was nothing beneath him but the skinniest of tightropes.

"Kaoru, please, come down from there," he heard Kyouya's voice. "It's dangerous. Have you seen the drop-off?"

"It's alright, Kyouya." Kaoru smiled into the wind. "I have good balance. I won't fall."

He extended his foot out in front of him, and felt the stone with his toes. The camera strap pulled pleasantly on his neck, but aside from that, he felt like he could lie down on the air and sleep. The beginnings of a midday heat had been gathering steam, but a breeze from the sea swept them briskly away, and all he could now feel was a warmth and a sweetness, a comfort and a freedom - freedom to go, freedom to stay, freedom to forget, freedom to put off the decision altogether.

"Kaoru, stop. You're making me nervous."

"Oh, Kyouya. There's nothing to worry about - this thing's pretty wide. You don't need to play host-mom, Tamaki's not around."

Kyouya seemed to descend into a pit of grumbling, and Kaoru took another step. He drew a large circle with his arms, and did a fancy figure with his foot. The air smelled like salt, and the succulents smelled like sweetness, and how nice it would have been to fly - well, not exactly to fly but to glide, past the villas huddling on the slopes toward the water, and come to rest, peaceful and cool, at the bottom of the sea...

"KAORU, PLEASE, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY!"

Kaoru's eyes snapped open. Before he could move, he felt a hand on his wrist, and was pulled down with an abrupt jerk.

"Alright, that's it -"

"Kyouya?! -"

Kaoru could not remember the last time he had seen the other boy so angry. The muscles of his eye were twitching uncontrollably - which signified a positively nuclear process going on inside, and he had twisted Kaoru's arm - not painfully enough to draw tears but hard enough to make his point.

"How - HOW can you do something like this?! There are PEOPLE who CARE about you!"

"I - I'm sorry" - the Hitachiin twin whimpered. "You should've told me you were that afraid of heights - I - I won't do it again, I promise..."

Kyouya breathed hard, staring at the twin. The seagulls cried somewhere far away, and Kyouya's eyes smoldered.

"We're going home. Right now" - and before Kaoru could protest, Kyouya began to walk, briskly, holding the twin's arm in an uncomfortable enough position to leave no room for protest.

"Uh - you mean, home-home? Like Japan-home?" Kaoru almost had to run to keep up with his steps.

"Don't be silly. Bed and breakfast home. And we're staying as far away from scenic outlooks as we can for the rest of this vacation - no exceptions."

They had made it out of the garden and Kyouya's seven-mile strides had taken the edge off his speech, but he was still speaking through his teeth.

"Uh, okay, Kyouya. Whatever makes you feel better."

Kyouya marched Kaoru all the way down the crooked alleyways of the old city - past the iconic clocktower and the cemetery at the top of the hill, past the souvenir shops just setting out their wares, and past the terrace restaurants, where the staff were just starting to put out sandwich boards with wines and menus. He then marched him past the bus stop with the commoner tourists headed for the beach, and crossed to the opposite side of the street, where another bus had pulled up - thankfully quickly - going in the opposite direction. The ride took all of ten minutes, during which Kyouya was deathly silent, and Kaoru had almost begun to breathe when the bus came to a halt and Kyouya seized his wrist, and proceeded to march him the rest of the way home with his arm in just as uncomfortable a position. Once they got to the house, Kyouya marched him around the back and slammed the French door so hard that the glass insets rattled.

Kaoru watched his friend - the latter wheezing and covering his face with his hand, but it was a few moments before he could think what to say.

"Kyouya, please," he finally ventured - glancing apprehensively at the hand was still on his wrist, well-night cutting off his blood flow. "I'm really, really sorry. I know I shouldn't have scared you like that. But I'm okay. Look, I don't know what else to say."

A beat.

"No, you don't understand," came Kyouya's voice from behind the hand - barely recognizable and downright sepulchral. "I - No. I'm sorry."

"Well, that's okay," Kaoru replied. A strange anxiety that he was not ready to name had begun to stir in his chest. The image of the drive before the house - covered in grass - flashed before his eyes, and he realized that Rose's car was gone -- that they were all alone. "Just... could you let go of my arm now? You're hurting me."  
Kyouya shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

Kyouya did not answer, and Kaoru reached to peel his hand from his face.  
The Ootori's face was stony, and he tried to avert his eyes, but seemed to lack the energy.  
"Kyouya, what is going on?"

"It's just... That I -" Kyouya looked like a man about to be burnt at the stake, and Kaoru held his wrist -- firmly. "I - thought of what would happen do if something were to happen to you, and I just -"

Kaoru hesitated.

"I... see. Well, I guess if something were to happen to me - though I see no reason why it should - then it might be hard at first, but people move on. No one's irreplaceable -"

"No!" Kyouya gave Kaoru's wrist a wrench. "Don't say that! Don't you dare say that!"

"O-okay" - the twin faltered.  
Kyouya breathed for a few moments as the sun bounded, scattering and splintering, through the glass.

"You... Don't understand," he finally managed through clenched teeth, letting go of Kaoru's wrist and shifting to his hand. "My whole life, I grew up missing something. Hopefully I don't need to tell you what it was. I didn't even realize it for a long time, but it was twisting and killing everyone in our house - so much so that I began to like school because it meant that I could get away. I threw myself into my work - I think all of us did, and I almost convinced myself that that was normal. And then Tamaki introduced the idea of the Host Club, and I got to know a wonderful person whom I never really saw before, except from afar. A person with fire in their eyes - who liked to play tricks but would never have hurt a fly - and who saw through everyone's delusions but would never tell them -"  
Kyouya's entire face gave a spasm and he let go of Kaoru's hand, covering his face with his palm.

Kaoru stared at him.

"B-but... that can't be possible," he mouthed. "You're... You..."

"And so what if I'm me," Kyouya spat bitterly, plopping down on the bed. "I have feelings too, you know. I'm not a monster."

"O-okay."

Outside, it was deafeningly quiet except for the birds, and the floor was growing warmer. The smell of the pines had begun to seep inside, whispering of a brilliant blue sky that Kaoru could not see.

"And I knew I had no chance," Kyouya went on - his voice shaking. "I didn't even know if I wanted a chance - or what I would do if I had one. But I knew that as long as I could see your face - how excited you got when you got really excited..." He shook his head, burying his face in his hands. "Hikaru doesn't deserve you as a brother - or... as anything. You make so many sacrifices for him, but he doesn't even see it; he responds with nothing but entitlement and ignorance every time -"

Kyouya slumped and stared at his feet. He had gotten so carried away - seeing as how this was the first time in his life he had no agenda or design - that he had barely noticed his mind run out of words, and then --

"Shhhh, don't talk," he heard the Hitachiin's whisper on his lips - and before he could blink, a warm softness had enveloped them, and suddenly he was being pushed up against the bedspread, with Kaoru's hands making their way up his shirt.

For a moment, Kyouya wondered if they had both gone insane - but then again, even at his worst Kyouya was still Kyouya, and managed to surface from the Hitachiin's kisses - which under the circumstances was no mean feat.

"K-kaoru!" - he sputtered as he caught his breath, a familiar feeling already quickening between his legs. "Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure it's not too soon?"

"No, don't be silly..." Kaoru panted, kissing down his neck and forcing Kyouya to stifle a gasp. "I want to be with someone who's better for me... I want to try."  
The sun billowed through the windowframes, flooding the room with light, and Kyouya closed his eyes, feeling the patterns of the quilt with his back.  
I love you - he wanted to whisper, but the Hitachiin's lips had made it back onto his, and were kissing hungrily, leaving wetness along his cheeks and chin. Kyouya's eyelids fluttered, and he parted his legs to make it more comfortable for Kaoru, digging his fingers into his new lover's sides, and unwillingly grinding his hips upward.

How many times had he thought about this? Dreamed about this? And yet it was so strange, like Kaoru was not even himself. Or at least the Kaoru he knew would not have had it in him to pull this insistently at his shirt, undoing button after button with a soft grunt, and in any case he never would have thought Kaoru would be the dominant one, though perhaps it was because he was more experienced.

Except -- experienced. Damn. The thought of Kaoru's "experience" made Kyouya momentarily ill, and he grabbed hold of the other's face, pushing his tongue harder into his mouth. In passing, somewhere among the things he had read, it had been mentioned that rape victims often acted strangely, running the gamut from aversion to touch to full-blown promiscuity. In light of that, he could only hope that Kaoru wasn't just trying to take back control - but then again, if that was what he wanted...

Kaoru was nearly done with the buttons now, even as stormed Kyouya's mouth with his tongue. Kyouya tried to breathe through his nose as he felt the air on his chest, but the coiled-up warmth between his hips was only growing stronger.

"Kaoru -" He mustered the last of his strength, which had been ebbing fast.  
Kaoru looked up. Even through the fogged-over lenses, his pupils were blown and his cheeks were red.

"Kaoru -" Kyouya struggled to prop himself up. "I - just don't want you to be doing this for the wrong reasons." He paused, trying to steady his breath. The Hitachiin looked dazed and straightened up, sitting back on his haunches. "I understand the need to move on, and I'm happy to help, but..." He took another breath and straightened his glasses. "It's just that if that's all this is, I would prefer to know."

Kaoru looked lost for a few moments, and Kyouya watched his eyes trace the stitching of the blanket.

"No, Kyouya" - he shook his head. "I... really do like you. Really. Everything you've done - I wanted to thank you -"

"It doesn't matter what I've done, and you don't need to thank me - not like that." He forced a chuckle. "You're not Haruhi."

The Hitachiin stared at the bedspread.

"I love you, Kaoru. I'd do anything for you - no strings attached, hard as that may be to believe. But I still want to know where things stand."

\- And I have a heart too, you know.

The younger Hitachiin folded his legs and stared at his calves.

"No, I... I understand," he said quietly, his hair catching the sun from the window. "And I feel the same way, Kyouya. When I'm here with you, I feel like the past didn't happen. And I like that you go out of your way to help me and make me feel safe. Even when you grabbed my wrist and pulled me down, I still felt safer than ever I thought I would in such a situation -"

Though, technically, it wasn't like he had had no warning. There had been a sign or three, but until recently, he had been too much in the land of the dead - and the circumstance of living in Kyouya's debt would have made it feel awkward.

And yet, it did not feel awkward now - or perhaps his sort of "debt" was not even a bad thing. Perhaps it was the change of scenery, or the invigorating mountain air, but it felt like a line of flight had appeared, and all he wanted was to grab it and run, and to see where it would take him.

In fact - lines of flight. Baudrillard, was it? No - Deleuze and Guattari, something Mlle Martin had brought when Kaoru requested modern philosophy. The concept had been confusing in itself, but it seemed to involve flowing, fleeing, even dissolving rather than actual flight, and Kaoru had interpreted the lines of flight as opportunities that came once in a while, and provided a chance to reshape the universe.

But it was Kyouya's turn to take the other's hand before he'd finished speaking.

"Kaoru -" he whispered. "I -" He pulled him close and had to dig his face into a shoulder to keep from weeping. "I swear, I will make you happy."

He eased the glasses off his face, and loosened his grip on Kaoru just enough to set them on the table. Kaoru, for his part, seemed to have grown shy, and Kyouya had begun to kiss up his neck, holding on to the slender form. Once his hand had found its way to a tight butt-cheek, his heart began to flutter. Before he knew it, he was pulling Kaoru on top of him, and his tongue was making love to Kaoru's mouth just as before. He could no longer see very well, but it did not matter. The stucco and the light had melted into a balmy whiteness, and by degrees, Kaoru had even begun to touch him under the shirt again, which put his mind at ease.  
He was not sure how much time had passed before Kaoru broke the embrace and began to kiss down his clavicles, sending warm eddies down his spine.

"Heeey," Kyouya whispered softly, running his fingers through the ginger hair. "Leaving already?"

"Oh..." Kaoru glanced up. "I was just - going to kiss you... lower."

"Oh - you don't need to do that -" Kyouya ran his hand down his lover's face, pausing his thumb on his chin. Already, Kaoru had moved far enough away that his features were a blur, and the air above his face was feeling cold and distant. "It's just... I want you up here. I want to see you."

"Then put your glasses back on."

"Oh, you know it's not that. It's just that... I only just got with you, didn't I? I want to enjoy you everywhere. I don't want a good time down there when up here is lonely."

"Oh, well, aren't we the demanding sort." Kaoru chuckled his face foxlike over the open shirt.

"Oh, yes - you'll find I'm very demanding." Kyouya bounced his eyebrows up and down, emulating his host club mien.

"Alright, Mr. Demanding Type" - Kaoru giggled. "I know what else we can do."

He pulled away, and Kyouya felt the bed shift. Kaoru got up and seemed to have crossed the room to rummage though his suitcase. Kyouya brought his hand to his eyes. The light was oft and bright, and the room was quiet except for the sound of Kaoru's rummaging. Kyouya's head began to spin. He had never been in such a situation - had never even sought a partner before, having been convinced that high school was no place for such things - and it wasn't. Everyone was far too emotionally driven, except...

Except this was Kaoru. Not that they'd ever be officially together, what with the state of things in their country and his family of origin, but to date Kaoru had been the only person he could ever envision himself with, and with good reason - for the spark in Kaoru's eye had made him rethink the possible.

He sat up, smiling at Kaoru and the suitcase. He pushed aside the covers and climbed underneath, undoing his pants, and Kaoru seemed to have found what he was looking for and had gotten up, striding back towards the bed. He motioned Kyouya to move over and climbed under the covers, his smile iridescent. The covers smelled fresh and clean, and were cool and heavy. With a mental blush that he hoped would not reach his cheeks, Kyouya realized that he was - for once - ashamed to be seen by another person. And then Kaoru's small, soft, uncharacteristically uncalloused hand came to rest on his, smile slipping into his eyes.

"Not getting cold feet, are we?" - the Hitachiin teased.

"No, of course not." Kyouya cupped Kaoru's jaw and brought him close, kissing his face. "Now, tell me what you want."

Five minutes later, the heavens had exploded.

Sex.

Actual sex.

Him. With Kaoru.

Had the entire world gone mad?

The item Kaoru that had found was a tube of simple aloe, but it got the job done. Kaoru had squeezed his legs together and showed him how to thrust between his thighs - all under the dark of the blanket. When Kyouya protested that it didn't seem like fun for the receiver, Kaoru had simply smiled and said they would reverse when he was done. And yet, Kaoru was still enjoying himself immensely - if his moans were any indication, and the friction of their abs seemed to provide a good deal of pleasure, even as Kyouya stopped from time to time to help things along. His mind was still lagging behind his body, seeing how only an hour before sitting close to Kaoru was an event in itself. And yet the younger Hitachiin's sweet, soft skin - like talcum powder - was now all around him, with the warmth of his small, delicate, androgynous body feeling like the most natural thing in the world. The pleasure between his thighs was only icing on the cake, and Kaoru - before so forward, had suddenly become so submissive and shy, and was looking up at him with those huge, sun-colored eyes, as if Kyouya was his whole world... It was enough to make anyone distracted, and was so surreal that Kyouya feared to touch lest Kaoru were to vanish under his fingers.

The room was warm, the sun was bright - outside, the pines and grasses must have been steaming in sunlight. It did not take long for Kyouya to feel that the end was near, and, giving a brief thought to the sheets and Rose before deciding he did not care, he slid his hands up and down Kaoru's thighs and deepened the kiss - only to nearly have a heart attack.

The door - transparent as it was with its insets of glass - gave a creak, and began to open.

Kyouya froze, and Kaoru made a small noise - though it seemed to be more in protest that his lover had stopped. Only their heads were visible above the blanket, but Kyouya's blood still froze in his veins as he slowly turned his head to the side - only to see nothing at all and to hear a throaty breath - much like a snort.

It was Cecile the she-bulldog - Rose's pet.

She had waddled in with a businesslike air, taken one glance at the occupants of the bed, and, having found nothing remarkable about the sight, climbed onto their suitcase.


	9. The Man of My Dreams

In the days that followed, Kyouya felt like someone had taken his life and replaced it with a porn.

Not that Kyouya knew much about porn. He had watched a grand total of thirteen minutes of it in his lifetime, having streamed it through a questionable proxy so his father would not find out. He had also closed it quickly enough once it got to the "good parts" - on account of having been appalled by the sheer out-in-the-openness of it all, and by the dubious reality of "making love on every surface."

And yet that was exactly what his life had become, for after he and Kaoru had done the deed and were cuddling under the heavy, brocade-embroidered covers, no sooner had Kyouya's heartbeat began to slow when Kaoru was ready to go again, and he was ready to go again a third time when they came back from lunch at a local eatery down the road - a charming little restaurant perched on the side of a cliff and home of a legendary "Pope's Cross," along with a delectable risotto and the owner's five baby labradors.

"Oh, Kyou-yaaa," he had sung over the noise of the shower as he cracked the door to the bathroom, causing Kyouya to suffer a near-fatal loss of balance. The Hitachiin's heart-shaped face poked around the curtain, and Kyouya had tried, unsuccessfully, to cover his shame with a sponge.

"Room for one more?"

"Well, this IS a very small shower cabin," Kyouya tried to protest. "In fact, that's the only remotely negative comment I've ever seen about this place -"

But Kaoru had already pulled aside the curtain, letting go of the towel around his hips. Kyoyua did his best to keep his eyes on Kaoru's face - but then Kaoru stepped inside the shower - which was indeed very small - and before Kyouya could blink they were kissing with his shoulder blades against the tiles, mouths seeking mouths and hands determined to leave a mark on every part of their bodies. Kyouya could not see well, what with the water and no glasses and the steam - but oh, it did not matter, especially when Kaoru slid down to his knees and began to work on him below. At that point, Kyouya's mind had truly left him - which was just as well, for Kaoru was very good with his mouth, and Kyouya hardly wanted to think how he had gotten that way.

Not that Kyouya was complaining. After all, there were far worse things in life than to go from forever alone to having a personal, hyper-sexed incarnation of their dream-boy. And yet he could not help feeling wary. After all, it seemed too good to be true, and Kyouya did not like things that seemed too good to be true, and on top of that, if he didn't know better, the whole thing might have looked like a reenactment of the twins' act at the Host Club.

First, there was the beach incident. It had been around 3 o'clock on the second day, and they had been resting on their towels and gazing out at the horizon when Kaoru leaned over to his side, looked earnestly at him with his large, golden eyes, and said, "Kyouya, kiss me."

"I - I beg your pardon?" - Kyouya faltered, snapping out of his salt-soaked, sun-drenched reverie.

"Kiss me," Kaoru repeated, smiling and shifting so his legs were folded like a girl's. "I mean," he added, casting a glance over the gays on the rocks,"If you're going to do it anywhere, it might as well be on a gay beach, right? It's not like we'll look out of place."

Until then, Kyouya had had no opinion on being gay - or gay culture in general. Where they came from being gay wasn't even an identity - it was more of a behavior, and he wasn't even sure if one love amounted to an orientation. In light of that, it was no surprise that he could hardly relate to the overly groomed men - some sporting eyeliner and all perfectly conscious of Being Seen - and yet he couldn't very well tell Kaoru that, so he smiled and leaned in closer, closing his eyes to savor the roll of waves. In the end, it did not turn out half-bad, for after all he was in love, and the feel of Kaoru's lips and thighs, salty with the smell of sand and sea, was nothing short of intoxicating.

To that end, Kyouya had also not complained when they were at the flagship store of Gallimard, a local perfume manufacturer, and Kaoru took his arm and hugged it to his chest, letting him feel the powdery softness of the skin after bathing.

"Kyouya, will you get this for me, please?" - Kaoru had cooed, rolling a vial of perfume in his hands. "You can make it my birthday present."

"Kaoru, your birthday was a month ago - and I got already you a present." Kyouya smiled, casting a wary glance over the assembly of middle-aged women and sales consultants behind glass counters. "But you know I have no problem getting you what you want," he added quickly, pulling the vial from Kaoru's grasp and readjusting his three-odd shopping bags. "I quite like getting gifts for the… people in my life."

And he really did. That was his favorite thing about Japanese culture - the use of gifts as social lubricant, and his propensity for researching people before he even met them meant his gifts were always up to par. For Kaoru that year, he had gotten the DVDs of Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings - for they had been reading the book together bit by bit - and as for the perfume, it was such a trifle that he was amused Kaoru even had to ask. That said, he also owned that Hitachiin had good taste, true to his name**, for lemon was an easy smell to ruin, and yet this one wasn't too sweet, and had the right amount of tartness.

(**Let's not forget that "Kaoru" means "fragrance.")

The fact of the matter was, uncomfortable as he was with PDA, he could not deny Kaoru the pleasure. And yet… what bothered him most was not so much the blatant, perhaps intentional disregard for his discomfort, but the fact that Kaoru was unwilling to talk about it, and any attempts to do so were met with a brick wall.

The first time Kyouya tried was on the second evening of their relationship, when Kaoru had been lounging in the bed with nothing but a towel the Westering sun for decoration. Earlier that day, the two of them had stopped for a lemonade in the village, and Kaoru had whispered in Kyouya's ear that he had something to get at the local pharmacy, at which point Kyouya had hardly time to gasp before Kaoru had run off, and now the items rested comfortably in their bedside drawer.

"Kaoru, I've been meaning to ask you something" - said Kyouya, running a towel over his hair and trying to minimally savor the sight across the room.

"Oh?" -Kaoru looked up from his catalogue - the one he picked up from a manager at Gallimard, for although Kyouya had insisted that the vacation was a time to relax, the twin had come alive enough to appreciate the prospects of a partnership, and was about to make a full report to Yuzuha.

"I, uh."

Curses on a stick. The Hitachiin's lithe, sun-kissed form was far too good to look at - his skin far too much like an appetizing peach - and there was no way on earth he could not have angled his hips just-so with no erotic end in mind.

"I, uh - Well, let me first just say I really enjoy being with you. Truly. It's been like nothing else I've ever experienced before."

"Well, I should think so." Kaoru smirked, his eyes and lips those of a professional courtesan - sweet, but with the slightest bit a coquettish frost.

"But I'm a little concerned. I feel we're moving too fast, considering what's happened to you before."

Kaoru's eyes grew cold.

"This has nothing to do with what happened to me before. In fact, I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Kyouya disguised his consternation with an adjustment of his glasses.

""Oh. Well then," he replied. "Just let me know if you change your mind at any point. I promise I won't be upset."

But Kaoru seemed upset enough for both of them, and did not cease to pout until Kyouya came over to the bed and began kissing down his temple. He murmured the sweetest nothings he could think of - which, considering he was Kyouya, were not very sweet and not very nothing-esque, but it did not matter, for they got the job done, and before long Kaoru had turned his slender form toward his, and before another minute was up, had had buried his fingers in his hair, and was kissing back just as ardently. The salt was still on his skin, and they ended up making love like their ship was going down - without even bothering to draw the curtains - and ended up cracking into the condoms as well, though they only wrapped them around their fingers.

…

It might have been the fresh mountain air, or all the excellent sex that he had been having, but Kyouya always slept exceptionally well in Eze, and as a result, it took a few minutes before he realized the weight and the nudging were not going away, and grudgingly opened his eyes.

"Huh?" - he mumbled as he felt his robe being pushed aside - for he still slept in it, just in case, even as Kaoru slept naked.

The room was quiet and dark, the ceramic tiles radiating cool.

"Come on, don't be like this," he heard a voice.

"Kaoru, please -" Kyouya mumbled, shifting to the side and pulling the pillow towards him. "I can't do this right now, it's too late…"

"Don't pretend you're not a fucking junkie for me - not after what you've done…"

The tendrils of sleep had not let go - in fact they were nowhere close, but there was something odd - cold and almost callous about Kaoru's voice. Kyouya tried to ignore it and pulled the covers to his chin. Whatever it was, he would sort it out when better equipped - but the twin pushed him again - trying, evidently, to cudgel him onto his back with his body weight.

"Oh, come on. I'm just trying to pay you back in kind, don't you like it?"

Kyouya tried to shake his head, but a hand pushed unceremoniously under his robe, groping between his legs - and that was when he smelled it.

Rosé wine.

A LOT of rosé wine - the fine, delicate smell contorted into something acrid and horrifying. And now Kyouya was more awake, Kaoru was definitely slurring his speech.

Kyouya sat up like a shot. Predictably, Kaoru was naked as the day he was born - Kyouya could see that much even without his glasses. He had also pulled back with a sudden, bitter jerk and was covering his face with his hands.

"Kaoru, what are you talking about? Pay me - back? We've discussed this."

Of course.

He had been drinking. He probably didn't even know what he was saying. France had no legal age for alchol consumption, only for alcohol purchase - which meant it was perfectly legal for adults to buy minors drinks as long as it did not lead to intoxication. To that end, they had paid Rose to buy them some rosé and store it in her fridge for a "special occasion." Kaoru must have gotten into the stash, which meant -

Kyouya wanted to vomit.

Whatever assuredly complex, possibly Freudian reason was behind it, it did not matter now. All that mattered was that he had been an idiot, and that all the alarm-bells going off in his head had been correct, for Kaoru was NOT better, and his actions were NOT normal, and his happiness was a toxic and a fake one.

Kyouya had never wanted to punch something so badly in his life - his frustration with Tamaki could not come close to it.

He reached for his glasses and pulled the Hitachiin's hand from his face, trying hard not to rip everything to shreds.

Kaoru's shoulders began to shake.

Kyouya waited for a few moments as his breath turned to wheezes and then to sobs, and then loosened his grip on the Hitachiin's wrist, pulling him into a tight hug. The tendrils of sleep pulled on his limbs - as soon as he closed his eyes he wanted nothing more than to die and forget. But the feel of the whimpering form kept him sober.

"It'll be alright," he said dully, tightening his grip. "Don't worry about it now. You need to drink water and sleep it off. We'll sort it out in the morning."

But Kaoru continued to weep, full force now, as if he hadn't even heard him. Kyouya held the twin - fairly sure that his heart turned to water and seeped from his chest through a gaping hole, and once the twin quieted down, he tried to refocus his sight on the bedcover design.

"Alright, Kaoru, I'm going to get up and get you some water, alright? Can you stay here?"

The Hitachiin made no move, so Kyouya pulled away and tried to examine his face, but all it was was green and sickly, and then Kaoru's head bobbed backwards.

Kyouya sighed and pulled him to the head of the bed, propping him up on the pillows. He then got up and tiptoed across the room to where they kept the water-filter, and returned, double-fisted, to the bed. He placed one glass on the table and took Kaoru's chin, but the twin turned away with a bitter grunt.

"Kaoru, you need to drink - you don't want a headache in the morning."

Kaoru gave a broken sob.

"Hikaru, why did you have to do that?" he whimpered pitifully. "We could have had such a good life together. But now you've gone and ruined it all, and some water's supposed to solve that?"

"H-Hikaru?"

Of course.

Fuck.

Of course.

How could he have been so dumb?

I am trying to pay you back in kind. Not after what YOU've done.

Kyouya felt like he had been sliced down the middle.

"All of it, Hikaru," Kaoru sobbed. "All of it. You understand I'm ruined now? Good for nothing? All I can be is someone else's slut; I have no feelings anymore -"

"Kaoru. Drink. Now." Kyouya pulled his chin toward him, clenching the glass in hand - but Kaoru pulled away, more vehemently than before.

"And the sad thing is," he went on, his voice swelling with snot, "Is that if you called me back, I'd come. In a second. That's how much respect I have for myself now - but I don't suppose you care, do you?"

Kyouya felt his guts dripping to the floor. Oddly enough, it did not hurt that much - but then again, real guts did not have much pain innervation either.

Kaoru's shoulders lurched, and Kyouya seized the garbage can and held it under his chin. The acrid smell of vomit began to fill the room.

Stupid. He had been so stupid. And the worst part was, there was no one to blame. He, not anyone else, had let his guard down. He, not anyone else, let himself be played, and consciously so - and yet he could not bring himself to feel angry - just empty and sad and buried inside a mountain.

The moonlight crept across the brocade, and Kaoru wept and puked a few more times before dropping off to sleep. Kyouya did not know how much more time had passed, but sleep was out of the question, so went to take a second shower, during which he stood under the rushing flows and hoped that they would drown him.


	10. Mother Dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- It has come to my attention that the last three chapters have had a great deal of Kyokao, and have also been almost entirely from Kyouya's point of view. This will also continue to be the case for the next couple of chapters. In my defense, I did not originally intend this - I planned for Kyouya to have a much smaller role, but the story seems to have taken a life of its own, and I'm not going to lie, Kyouya is increasingly becoming an object of obsession. If this is "not what you signed up for" when you first started reading, I'm sorry. If you are still holding out for Hikaru and Kaoru to end up together - no comment, I don't want to spoil things, but suffice it to say that Hikaru will definitely be back. The creative process is full of surprises, and I'd like to thank everyone who's shared this ride with me so far.
> 
> \- Secondly, I've been having some qualms about how I write Kyouya and Kaoru. As my readers may know, I have seen the anime but have not read the manga, and as I understand there are a lot more Kyouya/Kaoru interactions in the latter. While I do pick things up online here and there, I am concerned that under my influence, K & K have become something quite different from what manga readers have come to except, and for that I ask them to forgive me.

Kyouya muttered darkly and rolled over in his sleep, but the "Ride of the Valkyries" did not let up. Running his hand down his face, he pulled himself up on all fours, and stood rocking back and forth, head dangling down in hopes that it would bring at least some blood to his head.

He pulled the phone towards him. "Yuzuha Hitachiin" - the screen read. He pressed the "receive" button and held the phone to his cheek, shutting his eyes against the sun rays.

"Kyouya, darling?"

Kyouya gave a sigh, hoping it was far enough away from the receiver. With Yuzuha, everyone her age and younger was "darling."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hitachiin" - he replied, doing his best to sound like he had at least one foot in the land of the living.

"Good morning, Kyouya. Is this a bad time?"

Bad time? Well, that's one way of putting it.

He and Yuzuha called each other every few days, and every time Kyouya would make a detailed report, at which point Yuzuha would decide whether or not to "bother Kaoru."

"Uh, no, it's quite alright. We just had a late night last night, that's all."

Yes, late night. Just a bit late, though.

Kyouya had fallen asleep only an hour before, having managed to talk his brain down by the time the sun had come up.

"Oh, well, then I could call back later?"

"No, no, that's alright. No need."

"Oh, well, then don't party too hard, you two" - the phone crinkled a laugh. "Anyway, the reason I called was - ah, no, never mind - first tell me how Kaoru's been getting along."

"Oh, well, same as always, I suppose." Kyouya cast a sepulchral glance over the twin's sleeping form - for he himself had fallen asleep at the foot of the bed, uncomfortably on top of the covers. "He's still asleep. He's been quite taken with the local perfume industry lately -"

"Well, isn't that nice." Yuzuha's very voice seemed to smile. "In fact, that's the other thing I've wanted to talk to you about. As it turns out, I do have a contact at Fragonard - an old, OLD friend, so if Kaoru can just talk to him while you two are there -"

Kyouya let half his mind drift back asleep as he reached for his tablet to take down the contact. Whatever Yuzuha's politics - and she was likely liberal enough - it was hard enough to be talk to the mother of the person he'd been sleeping with for the last few days. But now, he was one, possibly perfectly innocent demand away from Yuzuha finding out that he had not only let her son get blind-drunk, but allowed him to have a relapse as well.

"So anyway, Kyouya, I've been thinking" - Kyouya's brain snapped to - grudgingly - as did the eye he had been "resting." "You know, I feel so terrible with the twins being apart for so long. I obviously still don't know what happened; all I know is that it's something Hikaru did, and yes, they've never had a fight before, so that's probably what makes this so hard. But twins are really a special bond, don't you think?"

"Mhm, yes."

"So maybe it WOULD help it we were to get them back together at some point? Maybe just in a social setting? Whatever it is, I can't imagine it's so bad that they can't get past it. And Hikaru, I see him every day - and I can't tell you how terrible he looks."

"Well -"

NO. YOU WITCH. NO. Kyouya felt like he was falling. YOU ARE NOT TAKING KAORU AWAY FROM ME. NOT NOW. I DON'T CARE IF SUDDENLY EVERYTHING'S GOING WRONG, I'M STILL -

"That's a good thought," Kyouya said, disguising the sudden spasm of his jaw with a yawn. "But I get the sense that the issue at hand is - well, let's just say that solving it is more a matter of Kaoru finding his self-worth as an individual, and that may take some time."

"I know, darling, I know" - Yuzuha's face seemed to contort in her usual sweet way, and Kyouya felt himself seethe some more, the anger crinkling and popping down his spine. "I just - it's just that, well, are you sure that after all this time… it's still too soon? I mean, I just hate to see what it does to Hikaru."

…

Kyouya sat through five minutes of what the ordeal had apparently "done to Hikaru" before politely begging off and telling her that, once again, it was up to Kaoru and he would relay the message. Yuzuha seemed a less than convinced, but for the moment, Kyouya's powers of persuasion were limited, as all he wanted was do to collapse into the bed and sever all ties with the world.

But he couldn't. Oddly enough, his brain had been revved awake by the conversation, and there was no going back. The sun razzed his eyes, mocking and scolding like an old nursemaid chiding him for a worthless drain on society, so he pulled himself up on all fours and tried to think again.

Hours ago, he had concluded that Kaoru could not have meant it. It was the first thought that had in his wounded state - that he had fallen prey to the Hitachiin game, and had been used for the twin's pleasure. But it couldn't have been that, for Kyouya was Kaoru's only friend in the world, in which case it wasn't a game - it was suicide. Surely, Kaoru was smarter than that, and he couldn't have truly had a death-wish, which left only one explanation - in vino veritas. And Kyouya couldn't say if that made it better, or far, far worse.

Kaoru began to stir, mumbling sleepily as the quilt shifted over him like paper. The stucco walls and the floor still radiated cool, and Kyouya's head pounded. He scraped himself off the bed and got to his feet. It was still very early; Rose would probably not even have been up yet, but he needed something. Kaoru mumbled again and rolled over on his stomach. Kyouya adjusted his robe and made his way to the kitchen.

When the Hitachiin woke up, Kyouya was sitting by his side, meditatively stirring a cup of coffee. He looked up when Kaoru raised his eyes.

"Good morning, Kaoru," he asked, his voice as inflectionless as he could manage. "How are you feeling?"

Kaoru blinked as if the light cut his eyes, and let out a miserable-sounding hiccup.

"Here, drink some more." Kyouya held out a glass of water, fizzing with Alka-seltzer. Kaoru took is from his hand, and brought it obediently to his lips.

"Drink. The whole thing."

Kaoru did, and when he was half-done, he paused with his hand over his mouth, evidently trying to gauge the foulness of his breath.

"What… happened last night?" He asked tentatively. "I… drank a lot, didn't I? I don't… remember very much -" His face suddenly turned pale, and he screwed it up painfully, flexing his stomach to keep back a wave of nausea.

Kyouya nodded for him to finish the glass, and ran over his strategy one last time. Not that he had much experience with drinking, but from what he knew, there were so-called black-outs and so-called brown-outs, and sometimes people didn't remember things right away, but would remember them eventually. So lying was out, and yet… He could not very well pretend that nothing had happened.

"So how much do you want to know?" he asked.

"Oh." Kaoru paused, fingers molded over the empty glass, and pulled his knees up to his chin. "That bad, huh?"

Kyouya drew a breath. "It - wasn't your finest moment, no. But we all do irrational things sometimes, so I suppose it would excusable if not for one thing, which I found a bit - concerning."

"Oh." Kaoru pulled his arms tighter around his knees. "Let's have it."

Kyouya pursed his lips. "Well for starters, you called me Hikaru."

"Oh, God…" Kaoru let out a pained grunt and lowered his head as if his knees were a chopping block.

"Does that… ring a bell?"

"No, but, uh - what did I say? When I thought you were, uh - Hikaru?"

Kyouya sighed again, this time letting the air out slower than before. It was getting harder to breathe - much less to talk - which he imagined was the case for both of them.

"Well." He fought a spasm of the mouth. "You said… Anyway, the gist of it was that you were, understandably, angry with - er, Hikaru for what he did, but that you still - That you still loved him, and would go back to him without a second thought."

The words finally - painfully - out of his mouth, he watched Kaoru from the corner of his eye. The whole thing made him ill - sicker than he's felt that night and so much so that he wouldn't have minded trading places with Kaoru. But if the twin had heard, he gave no sign.

"And my concern," Kyouya went on, slowly and with the distinct, sinking sensation that he was launching a missile program that he would have no way to stop, "Is that… Whether or not you believe this in your conscious mind, I feel that it's a sign that you are, perhaps not ready -"

"That's funny," Kaoru interrupted dully, staring ahead as if into a void. "I don't even think about him anymore."

"Well, you might not WANT to think about him, no, but that doesn't mean that you don't have unresolved feelings that inform the things you do, and I feel that what happened is a sign you're not ready to move on just yet."

"B-but no, I AM." Kaoru looked up at Kyouya, and suddenly his eyes were desperate. "I DON'T love him, I like YOU -" He reached an ineffectual hand across the covers.

Kyouya sighed, turning what felt like the second key in the missile program.

"Kaoru, I'm sorry. Believe me, I am. But I know what I heard, and I can't very well un-hear it. I love you and I will continue doing things for you. I will wait for you to get better, if that's what it takes, and I'm willing to try again. But I don't think that now is a good time."

Kaoru's knees were shaking, and Kyouya found himself sincerely wishing he could throw himself off a nearby cliff.

"I think you're thinking too much," the Hitachiin finally managed in a dead voice. "I mean, why can't we just… be? We were happy, weren't we?"

Kyouya smiled.

Well, now you're just talking like Hikaru.

"Because I don't work that way," he replied. "Look, I understand perfectly. You want affection. You want affirmation, validation, your agency back, and who knows what else. But unfortunately, I've seen nothing to suggest that were someone else in my place - Tamaki, let's say, or somebody off the street - that you wouldn't act the exact the same way. It seems like the things you want - you can get anywhere, and I just happened to come along."

Kaoru furrowed his brow. "That's not fair. I chose to tell you, you know. I didn't just tell you because I bumped into you that day."

Kyouya sighed again. "Alright, fair. But there are still too many variables, and still too much that needs to be sorted out." He shrugged. "And I suppose I'm just a selfish man, you know. I want to know that I have you all to myself, and that you want me because you want me, and not for some other, extraneous reason."

"I thought you said you'd do anything for me" - facetious or bitter? For once, Kyouya could not quite tell.

"And I would."

"Anything but that, you mean."

No inflection. Just a statement of fact.

"No, Kaoru. I would. But I also know myself, and I'm concerned that if I were to agree to something… casual, I'd still get too emotionally embroiled, and then there wouldn't be much of me for later - understand?"

The seconds passed. Kaoru nodded, slowly, and slumped over to the side.

"But… I love you, Kyouya-senpai," he whispered helplessly. "You were so good to me."

Kyouya sighed.

"I know, Kaoru. I know. But that's not why you fall in love with someone."

…

"Come on, Kaoru." Kyouya gently shook the twin's shoulder. Kaoru had been lying in bed for the last half hour, wrapped in two blankets and so quiet it was hard to tell if he was alive. "You shouldn't stay in bed all day - it won't make you feel better, and it's not going to change things. Here, let's go do something. Let's go for a walk."

But Kaoru turned away, pulling his knees to his chest and the covers over his head. He then proceeded to communicate, in so many grunts, that he had no intention of getting out of bed that day, and remained in the same attitude for another hour, with Kyouya eventually giving in and going outside alone. Out in the garden, the rustic, whitewashed table was set for two, orange juice and napkin rings at the ready. As he looked at it all, Kyouya wondered if he ought to have been sad, but all he felt was tired and not the least bit hungry. His brain snapped in and out consciousness, and Cecile the bulldog appeared at his feet, making little snorts with her accordion-snout and sending needles up his nose. The rose-tinged pieces of apple tree fell onto the table, and Cecile stared with her large, saucer-like eyes at Kyouya's face. She always did that, whenever there was the slightest bit of food to be had. Rose was sensible enough not to feed her from the table, but the guests were less so, and as a result, Cecile was a regular at every breakfast, and had no qualms about entering their room at every opportunity.

In the end, Kyouya decided to devote his day to taking care of Kaoru. After all, he had "broken up with him," or so Kaoru was convinced, so it was only fair. First, he brought him his share of breakfast into bed and fed it to him, long-sufferingly, with a spoon. He then pulled out Lord of the Rings - neglected for the past week - and began to read out loud. They were well into the second book now, following Frodo and Sam through Mordor. Kaoru listened cheerlessly, then dropped off to sleep, and Kyouya took the opportunity to go down the road - in the same direction as the Tavern of the Pope's Cross, to the place where there was a row of shops and a deli quite unknown to tourists but frequented by locals. He bought some carry-out food, having invented a new, international version of sign language in the process, and as he returned, the sun was turning gold and starting to steam on the silver-green paws of the pine trees. The cicadas had started up their song - a concert that always coincided with the midday stillness - and there was a new car in the driveway, with Swedish license plates. The apple tree was still shedding bits just as before, but Cecile seemed to have found a new benefactor, and was nowhere to be seen.

Kaoru was stirring as Kyouya stepped into the room.

"Hangover sausages," he said, holding up the bag and giving a soft smile. "And hangover croque-madame."

Kaoru sat up, still unsmiling - but he looked a little less green around the gills, which Kyouya took to be a good sign.

As the day wore on, they found some newspaper and made a picnic atop the covers - for Kaoru had deigned to put on some clothes but still refused to leave the bed. They then pulled out Kyouya's laptop, and turned on a movie, a Miyazaki film Kaoru liked that was from his childhood. Kyouya did not remember the last time he intentionally watched TV, and about five minutes in, he put his arm around Kaoru and pulled him close.

"You know I said I loved you, I wasn't lying," he said. "I will wait for you to get better, I promise. I won't have anyone else."

Kaoru did not reply, and that evening, they ended up falling asleep with their arms around each other, Kaoru's face against Kyouya's chest. Kyouya regretted the position somewhat, but in the end was too tired to mount much protest.

The next morning, Kaoru was surprisingly chipper.

"Let's go to Nice today!" he cried, jumping out from under the covers and jolting a still-dozing Kyouya into wakefulness.

"Nice?" - the Shadow King mumbled, pulling his loose, buttonless robe tighter around his chest. "Why… Nice?"

"We can take the train," Kaoru bounced, pausing in a froglike position with his arms between his knees. "I never get to take the train at home - my parents never let me. Like, ever since the sarin gas thing in the 90's, they think I'd going to get blown to smithereens if I ever set foot in a subway."

Kyouya fumbled his way out of bed, straightening his glasses. The sun was a little less merciless that morning. A rain had passed in the night, and the smell air, washed clean, snuck its way under the doorframe. A Hitachiin twin who was really keen on doing anything was by default suspicious - Kyouya had known the two long enough to be aware of that much. But when it came to the other part, Kyouya had quite given up completely in reading the twin's emotions. All he knew was that they chased each other as rapidly across his face as the sun chased the moon, and that the game of Mao was a better place to look for logic than the workings of his troubled mind.

"Fine. If you want Nice and public transportation, Nice and public transportation is what you shall get," he sighed, dragging his feet to the bathroom. His nerves were raw from the day before, and his brain craved sleep - but such was the lot of the Host Club mother - and Kaoru's mother in Yuzuha's absence, apparently.

…

Nice, as per Kyouya's premonition, was busy, sweaty, and sunny. They walked down the famed Promenade des Anglais, and Kaoru chose to hold Kyouya's arm, which Kyouya chose to go along with without comment. The beach lay stretching for miles before them, real estate packed tight with colorful blankets and family-sized parasols. The seabirds called noisily overhead, and despite the palm trees lining the walk at regular intervals, there was no place to hide from the heat. The sun penetrated ten layers of skin deep, and Kyouya felt like a goose on a skewer, pleasantly slipping into oblivion as the juices dripped from him bit by bit.

"Come on, let's go into the city," he heard Kaoru's voice under his ear as the twin squeezed his arm. "This promenade seems overrated - it's 5 kilometers, and it's all the same."

Kyouya had to agree on that point, but the city was not much better. The sidewalks were crowded, and the air was second-hand and hot, the only redeeming feature being the wide-open spaces such as the opera-square and the Sunday flea market. Kaoru, however, seemed to be very happy. He had let go of Kyouya's arm and was walking jauntily along, looking around with wide eyes and a big smile. The swing of his long, slender arms made Kyouya hurt a little inside - for they were very white and the billows of sun fell like lashes. But Kaoru seemed far too busy admiring the wrought-iron balconies of the Napoleonic facades - done up with stucco and all sorts of bright colors, to pay the heat much mind. There were flowers on many a windowsill, and all seemed to be spilling out into the streets, giving the whole place an air of summer as only a city could: an atmosphere of hustle and bustle, departures and arrivals, train stations and buses - happy anticipation that made escaping it all the sweeter.

The sun flowed down in rushing, rising rivers from the rooftops, and Kaoru had skipped a few meters ahead, squatting down to pat a dog. It turned out to be one of four Springer Spaniels that a middle aged man held on a set of leashes, and the twin waved to Kyouya to catch up.

"Kyouya, take a picture of me!" - he called in English, evidently pausing in conversation with the man. Kyouya approached, pulling out his Nikon from its holster, and felt his nostrils start to sting. Far from jumping up into his face like Tamaki's dog Antoinette did, though, all four beasts sat down simultaneously at their owner's command, and Kyouya gave him a grateful smile as he adjusted the camera settings.

Kaoru beamed as he hugged one of the dogs - the biggest one, a fabulous dappled specimen, and Kyouya, for the umpteenth time that day, felt a terrible premonition of what might that smile might have hidden. Indeed, with Kaoru's track record, Kyouya almost had a mind to put HIM on a leash, and would have certainly done so, save for the obvious ethical implications.

He snapped the picture and thanked the owner, motioning for Kaoru to get up.

A half an hour later, they found their way to a small side-street - one way, and a veritable mass of greenery with slender houses and tall porches side by side. Although only a block away from the main boulevard, the place was like an undiscovered tomb, and was much cooler in the shade.

"Look, an onion dome Cathedral!" - Kaoru smiled, pointing out a silhouette among the trees.

Kyouya scrolled through the guidebook on his phone.

"Yes, that's right. Apparently, it was built by Tsar Nicholas II of Russia. His family was fond of coming to Nice over the summer, and it seems they needed a place to worship - as did the rest of the expats."

Kaoru chuckled, craning his neck.

"Yeah. Imagine that. 'My family and I go to on vacation to this place every year - it's perfect, but there's nowhere for us to go to church, so we built our own.' "

"Ah. Well." Kyouya scrolled further down. "The Ootori group did donate money to found a temple in Bali back in the day - so I suppose it's not that strange."

"Oh, right." Kaoru smirked. For a moment, his voice seemed kind - genuinely kind, with none of the troubling current that had been tripping alarm-bells in Kyouya's mind all day. "Of course. I forgot who I was talking to."

"Hm, apparently, there was quite the interesting property dispute over this place recently," he added, scrolling some more and adjusting his glasses.

"Oh?" Kaoru peered over his arm.

Kyouya angled the screen in his direction. "It seems that both the French and Russians governments laid a claim. And during Soviet times, many of the overseas parishes started declaring themselves independent, which makes the jurisdiction even murkier."

Kaoru ran his eyes curiously over the screen, and Kyouya handed him the phone with a smile.

"Do you want to go inside? It's Sunday after all, we might even catch a service."

"Oh." Kaoru cast a skeptical look at the dome. "Would that be… okay, though? We're not even Christian."

Kyouya shrugged. "I don't see why not. It might be an intriguing experience, in its own way."

Kaoru did not seem to object, still absorbed by the phone, and Kyouya began walking toward the gates. A large, sprawling set of lawns met his eyes, and he saw several beds of wild roses, carefully contained. Children played on the lawns, and mothers and tourists sat on the benches, catching sunlight where the chestnuts parted overhead. A queue of people - some of them wearing headkerchiefs - was gathering to go inside.

Kyouya had been right. There was a service, and they'd arrived just in time - as did a number of parishioners, devout vacationers all but treading sand off the beach, and curious tourists with cameras that they were asked to put away. And Kaoru had been right too - the fact that they weren't Greek Orthodox - or Christian at all - meant the whole thing had an air of an absurdist play. Still, the Hitachiin seemed to get into it pretty quickly, for the phone - or whatever he saw in it - seemed to awaken his senses. And indeed, there was much to see. Not only was the decor a splendid sight - the Greek Orthodox had a penchant for icons, each one encrusted with more jewels and gold than actual paint - but the walls were covered with frescoes, and there were dozens if not hundreds of candles, weeping and beckoning like fireflies filling a sky.

There was also a veritable wall of icons dividing the hall and whatever space was behind the pulpit. There seemed to be about ten people involved in the service, and they kept coming in and out of the door in said wall, wearing richly embroidered robes and carrying lavish-looking incense burners. They were also quite adept at singing a capella in a language like nothing Kyouya had ever heard before. The only remotely comprehensible word was "amen," and even so, it was hard to know when to genuflect, for he and Kaoru were stuck - the hall being sex-segregated - in between two men, one of whom crossed himself pretty much continuously, while the other seemed far too absorbed in his phone.

Kyouya made a note to himself to read up on the Greek Orthodox faith later, and resolved to pay attention as best he could; after all, there was no telling when a similar opportunity would present itself.

The only trouble was, once he got past the incomprehension, the whole thing was almost… soothing, and unlike all the other Christian churches he had toured, this one didn't have pews, and everybody stood. Which may have been just as well, except to keep his eyes open amid the heady incense and lugubrious liturgy proved quite a task - especially since after they stepped inside the sun disappeared. Before long, the only thing keeping Kyouya awake was the feel of his own body tipping every few minutes as he leaned against a pillar.

There was something about Christian churches. Something about the Notre Dame in Paris and the Saint Pierre Cathedral in Rennes - the ones his class visited on their middle school trip - and Saint Paul's in London. Something about being in a place where hundreds of thousands of people had come and silently offered their prayers in sincere hope that lighting a penny candle would solve all their woes spoke to the naivete and the desperation of the world, and yet there was little else that was so raw and so human in its irrationality. Shinto shrines were much the same - people offered wishes that they burned, but Shinto shrines also had a way of burning themselves, and being carried from place to place, whereas Western churches were more permanent. They stood for centuries, and some were built over the course of centuries, with people being born, living, and dying - all in the shadow of an unfinished edifice.

Kyouya opened his eyes, for the music had ended. The service was over, and people were filing into the hall, feet shuffling and voices pettering like so much rain.

"Kaoru? -"

The noise of a hundred separate conversations, all ricocheting off the walls, came as the only answer. Kyouya searched for the ginger mop of hair in the crowd, but every time he thought he found it, it turned out to be someone else: first a woman with red hair and pale freckles, then a boy who was more blond, then someone else entirely in a sleeveless hoodie just like Kaoru's.

Craning his neck and growing more panicked by the moment, Kyouya let himself get swept up by the crowd. Outside, the sun was beginning to slant, and it was just about the time of day that filmmakers liked to call "magic hour." Aside from the dissipating faithful, the grounds were remarkably still, the sun glowing liquid through the trees.

Kyouya watched the remainder of the parishioners pass by, his back pressed against the door.

Gone. Definitely gone.

Could he have… gone to use the facilities? Where WERE the facilities, anyway? Probably in the church basement - but surely it had been five minutes, which was more than enough -

LIKE HELL HE'S "JUST USING THE FACILITIES" - HAVE YOU MET KAORU? HE'S A HITACHIIN TWIN -

Yes, yes - okay, fine… Fair point…

AND LET'S NOT FORGET HE'S BEEN TRIPPING YOUR ALARM SYSTEM ALL DAY! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU WERE SO DUMB AS TO BRING HIM HERE -

Kyouya drew a sigh.

Okay.

Fine.

Once again. Fair point.

He's a Hitachiin twin. Which means there's probably nothing to worry about - he's just pulling some prank, like hiding behind this door waiting for me to relax so he can jump out and scare the living daylights out of me.

With shaking fingers, Kyouya pulled out his phone from his back pocket. Flipping it open, he pressed the four silver panic buttons, and brought the receiver to his ear. It rang - twice - but not anywhere close by.

"Kaoru, where are you?" - he blurted out as soon as the receiver clicked.

It sounded like somewhere loud. A cacophony of voices flooded the phone before Kaoru's voice emerged.

"Hah, wouldn't YOU like to know?" - the Hitachiin twin giggled.

"Kaoru, this isn't funny." Kyouya clenched his teeth. "Please. Either tell me where you are or come back. If something happens to you, your parents will have my head, do you understand that?"

"That's your problem, not mine." Kaoru's voice was chillingly opaque. Chipper, almost. "Now you know what it's like not to have your family's army backing you up. Dear me, dear me, what IS Kyouya going to do in a foreign city where he barely speaks the language, and lost the supposed love of his life who does?"

Kyouya nearly broke the phone in his hand.

"Kaoru, you're -"

You're acting like a mutual acquaintance of ours who is a good deal less mature and less intelligent. You've BEEN acting like him for a good three days. And by God I've tried to be patient - by GOD I've tried to to anticipate every twisted-to-hell coping mechanism, but YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS -

IDENTIFICATION : A coping mechanism where the patient emulates the behavior of one who is more powerful, even if not necessarily admired. Example: A child emulates the actions of an abuser.

"Kaoru" - He took a slow, painstaking breath and put on his Shadow King voice. "You have ten minutes to get back to where you last saw me, or there will be consequences."

"Hah, what KIND of consequences? Are you going to file a missing persons report? Oh, I'm SO scared." Someone in the background screamed - rather wildly and spanning three octaves.

"Well, I'll tell your mother for starters -"

"Riiiiiight, and I'll tell her you fell asleep when you were supposed to be watching me, so -"

"And then I'll tell my father, and everyone in charge of your treatment back home, and then you'll be right back where you started - living at home with HIM, where you can do whatever you like."

Kaoru blew a raspberry with his lips.

"Troll harder, why don't you. We both know you won't do it - you're far too addicted. You can't stand being away from me. You can't even stand saying no to me. It took all you had, yesterday."

The cacophony of voices grew louder, though it may have been Kyouya's imagination.

Kyouya felt himself standing at a door. A cast iron door ten miles high.

Please, Kaoru, I know you're in there. Don't be like this. It does not suit you.

"Kaoru," he tried again. "We're both adults here. I understand you've been through a lot, but that doesn't give you the right to put me in this situation."

Moron, moron, moron. How many times did he vow not to negotiate with terrorists, emotional ones included? A chorus of birds started up in the trees - or perhaps it had been there all along.

Kaoru laughed into the phone. On the other side, things seemed to be getting rowdier as well, and Kyouya thought he heard the sound of a TV. A late-afternoon chill ran across Kyouya's arm.

"Whatever," Kaoru said. "I just thought this trip might be a little more entertaining, so how about this? I'll send you a picture of where I am, and if you can find me on your own, I'll come back without a fight and we'll never mention it again, alright?"

Kyouya seethed into the phone, unable to answer. The chorus of the birds swelled.

There was a sniff on Kaoru's end of the line, and the phone went dead. Kyouya didn't know what force, human or supernatural, kept him from throwing his phone into the bushes.


	11. Heat

Kyouya did not need a picture to know where Kaoru was. Several weeks prior, on the day when Kaoru slipped away from the hospital Kyouya took the liberty of prying open his phone open when he fell asleep, and implanting a microchip. Not because he didn't trust him, exactly. But it was a standard thing to do in their circles -- for people who were in the know, or wanted to know, or simply wanted to keep track of their phones, it was no uncommon thing. In fact, Kyouya was certain that his father placed such chips in his phone for some years now. As such, he didn't feel what he did was wrong -- just… a precaution.

As a consequence, Kyouya had called to get a lay of the land -- to get a handle on Kaoru's mood, and if he was able to talk. After all, if he had been kidnapped, or was lost, or had planted his phone on a homeless man named Pablo, the plan of attack would have been quite different.

As things stood, though, Kyouya spent a few minutes actively trying to not throw his phone into the bushes, then swiped into his browser and logged into an interface. Once there, he saw Kaoru's phone blinking as a deep red dot over a map of Nice. From the looks of the spot, it wasn't much more than a ten-minute cab ride. How long HAD he been asleep? Kyouya felt his features settling to a scowl as he made quick strides down Avenue Nicolas II toward Tsarewitch Boulevard. Beyond it lay Boudevard Gambetta, where there was a good chance of catching a cab. People still walked up and down the shady street, young mothers with prams and dog-owners with dogs, but everything felt indifferent now, and as he stepped into the crowded thoroughfare, the flows of people parted slowly around him and he zoomed into the address. In showed a street and a number, but nothing more.

A cab pulled up, and Kyouya remained standing for a split-second before remembering that only in Japan did cab doors open on their own. As he got in, he noticed there was a bed of flowers on a nearby windowsill -- a bright splash of magenta in a tall open window. For some reason, he imagined that room had a hardwood floor and an old gramophone, and was the sort of room where it was easy to conserve the cool.

Ten minutes.

Just as he had estimated, and just as the browser had predicted. He paid the fare, and stepped out of the car. 

It was a part of town that every European city had -- where the houses were huddled together, breathing in each other's scent. The tired-orange walls were no more than four stories high, yet one still got the feeling of being in a well -- a center of a labyrinth where a house had gotten stuck when it was very young and playing hide and seek with the other houses. There was a single sliver of light down the middle of the square -- no more than a couple hundred meters in area, and concrete stumps stuck out here and there, evidently to guard the meter of makeshift sidewalk. The corner where the cab dropped him off was a meeting of three streets, with a creperie, a toy shop, and a small mysterious business called "Le Block." Kaoru, quite obviously, was nowhere to be seen, but since his phone WAS flashing, bright and red, atop the map in the spot corresponding to Rue Jules Gilly, Kyouya found himself drawing a small sigh. Somehow, the fact that the phone had not moved for the last 10 minutes was comforting, and he found himself worrying less -- until he flicked open the browser and decided to look up the place.

The heat of the day was decidedly gone, with only the pavement exhaling a soft warmth. In the distance, there was the occasional rumble of motorcycles -- and yet Kyouya felt his hair rise on end.

A sauna. A gay sauna.

Part of him expected something like that. A gay bar perhaps, or a strip club, but he'd thought that was unlikely, considering it was still daytime. But expecting was one thing; seeing was another. Expectation was a state when things both were and weren't, like Schroedinger's cat -- and when there was hope, as far as hope went. Indeed, he'd spent the bulk of his time in the car with his fingers on his phone, debating whether to look up the address or not. Ordinarily, he was of the mind that no information was useless, at least not until proven otherwise, but for the first time in his life, he found himself eschewing this possibility. And now -- well, now, he was chewing himself out for lying so well, and to himself no less, and yet his mind was mostly occupied by a different matter.

The first thing he couldn't decide -- once the initial shock had ebbed, was whether to lose respect for Kaoru. After all, one didn't need to be in the "community" to know -- and yes, he was still appalled and mortified at the idea of being in such a "community" -- to know that there was only one thing going on a gay bathhouse. In leading him to it, the twin had all but told him what he'd come there to do, and Kyouya could not help but appreciate the joke, crass as it was, of the cathedral and the brothel. 

Lose respect -- and walk away while he could. Yes, that would have been just what what he'd done in his past life. Get Kaoru out of there, preferably pull him out of the lap of some stranger-man and march him straight out of the place with a few choice words. Yes, that was the ticket, except --

Except he couldn't do it. Try as he might, there was some mental block in place. He could imagine very well the foxlike look on Kaoru's face as he knelt before him, subservient and willful at the same time, and took him in his mouth with no regard for anyone's propriety. It was so easy, the memory of Kaoru's lips was still so fresh. Kaoru was forward, yes, the sort of person who was all but two people trapped inside, no telling which way they'd pull next. But on the other hand, there simply was no way he could mean it. He didn't know why he thought that, but he did. He knew full well that people were what they did, and vice versa. But all the same, he knew that every action was a vector, the sum total of a million different views and so it represented none of them directly.

The truth was, Kaoru probably WANTED him appalled, WANTED to see him to lose respect, WANTED to hurt him -- or perhaps himself. Kaoru had a million different reasons, as like as not, but one that Kyouya simply couldn't see -- couldn't even imagine, was that he LIKED doing that sort of thing -- that he did it for the beauty of the fact.

Kyouya shut his phone and took a breath. He then edged slowly around the van, and stepped into the neon-tinged darkness.

…

Kaoru was sitting in the steam room, the anger slowly leaking from his pores. Kyouya had broken up with him for what he felt was not a legitimate reason -- and revenge, however petty, was sweet, though it wasn't what he'd come looking for in the first place. At first, he had simply thought of giving Kyouya a scare, but then he considered the irony. Somehow, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he wore a scarlet letter in his friend's eyes, and everybody knew how it ended up with women who got raped in times past. Back then -- but then again, dash it all, still to this day, women had no agency UNTIL they had their backs against the wall, and then it was suddenly as if they were doing the tempting. Ostracized from society, many had no choice but to become "those sorts of women."

"Shouldn’t someone be studying for their bac?" -- Kaoru heard over his ear. The voice a velvety one -- the rich vibrato of a well-tuned cello.

Kaoru chuckled lightly, glancing up at the ceiling where the steam was gathering. Not curious enough, yet, to appraise the looks of the man, but certainly willing to smile. The steam room was a dark, shadowy grotto, its walls coming to a point and covered in glistening blue tiles. The air curled in eddies in the corners of the room, only to be swept up by an invisible fan.

"My bac’s next year," he replied in perfect French. "I’m not that desperate.” He raised his hand to the light, inspecting his nails. He had been there for a good ten minutes, and the air was getting turbid in his lungs. It settled on his skin, too, heavy and heady like the gaze of the man, and Kaoru shifted over to reveal his abs in better light.

"Oh, then maybe you should be mowing the lawn, or helping your mother around the house instead of getting corrupted in here?" 

Kaoru looked up. The man was seated a meter or so away, tan with dark hair and not too tall. The look of his front was a product of a cultivated egotism -- a life of fitting rooms and weight rooms, tea rooms and massage parlors. His eyes were dark and his nose was Greek, and Kaoru wondered how the French could make a coloring so pedestrian a phenomenon in itself.

"I’ve had two boyfriends already; I’m plenty corrupted" -- he smiled, settling back against the tiles. His tone was bored, but his eyes were ready to engage as they slipped over the man’s torso. "I suggest if you like virgins you try the Catholic church down the street. I was just there. They’ve got cute choir boys."

"Nah." The man shifted over a tad — not close enough to touch, but certainly close enough to see. "I don’t like choir boys. I like redheaded devils."

"Oh, good. I was getting worried there."

Now that he was closer, his voice really did sound rich -- fine in the sense of no-expenses-spared, like all things French. Kaoru slipped behind his eyelids, and let his fancy take cue.

"What do you say we take this somewhere private?"

"Nah." Kaoru put his hands behind his head, bowing his torso forward. “I’m not shy. Anything you want me to do, I don’t mind doing here.”

"Well-well." The man’s eyebrows tented. "He really is a devil.”

"Got a friend?" Kaoru smiled as his eyes gave a caress. "I like threesomes."

…

It was Sunday afternoon -- during tourist season, yes, but Sunday and a beautiful day, so the man did not have a friend at his disposal. Still, when he acquiesced the fact, Kaoru chuckled and smiled, and let his finger flick over his chin and chest before shifting to his knees. The man smiled -- like one might have smiled at a friend across a cafe table, and reached to touch the twin's hair. Kaoru shook his head and frowned, but motioned him to spread his legs. The man did, letting his towel slip to one side, and as was the case in every other aspect of his appearance, his dignity did not disappoint. Kaoru felt himself swell between the thighs, and he arched his back and got to work, cupping with hands and mouth at the same time. The man let go a soft gasp -- restrained yet smoldering, and leaned back, letting Kaoru feel his muscular thighs -- not a gram of fat upon them.

Kyouya? Kyouya who?

Breathing was hard as it was, but Kaoru worked earnestly, the gasps from the man his ego-tickling reward. He could not help but smile -- in a way that made it harder to take the man fully -- but then the breaths were growing throatier and less cultivated, which spoke to his prowess. At first he tried to forget his backside, which would have met the eyes of anyone who came in -- but then the coils of pleasure were already building between his legs, and his butt felt only too ready to receive attention. There was something decidedly delicious about having a man in his throat, and whatever anyone said, it was not easy to be with two men at once in such a short space of time. At the very least, you had to be good-looking. But more importantly, you had to be good.

He flared his butt a bit more, moving it side to side for an invisible crowd. It grew hard to breathe -- the air, thick as second-hand breath, hung heavy in his nose, and his throat was sopping with fluids, his skin tingling with lust and desire. Before long, he heard the sound of sandaled steps behind him. They came to a stop, and he felt a pair of fingers start to work their way between his buttocks. 

At first, he did not want to turn around, but when he felt something thicker than the fingers, he pulled his head back and spun around.

"Hey!" 

It turned out that they had acquired an audience -- at least two other men, their bodies less tight but still glistening -- and one of them had taken Kaoru's bottom for the invitation that it was.

"Um, use a condom, cherie" -- Kaoru said with a cutesy twang, reaching for the bundle he had brought. He held out a plastic square, along with a sample-sized bottle. "And use some lube, too, please," he added, eyes slipping momentarily down in a wordless complement.

The man seemed taken aback, not having expected such assertiveness from a teenager. Still, he took the condom and lube, and Kaoru turned back around, returning to his task. He gasped only a little as the man, obediently gloved, pushed deep inside. He glanced up at his first man, and gave a seductive smile. Not that he needed approval, for the sizable specimen had grown under his fingers. But still, his second man's intrusion in him hurt, and even as he had began to move and Kaoru's muscles began to stretch, it was a pain he wanted to feel, and wanted to savor. Together with the lusty milk of sweat pouring down his sides, his shudder of inhibition swelled into a heady warmth that galvanized and pushed him forward. He managed to forget he was even nude: his skin felt… strong, invincible somehow -- like that of a supermodel.

He began to kiss his first man's middle again, and turned only after a minute or two.

"Spank me and call me bitch and touch me in front," he commanded to the newcomer.

After all, his own hands were far too busy.

…

Kyouya walked down the hall, clutching his robe to his chest. 

Alright, alright. No need to get emotional. 

After all, it wasn't like he'd never seen this before. The place was full of men -- and he, too, was a man. He'd even been to an onsen** before, though not a public one, so none of this was strictly speaking a shock. Except the men were all so fir and toned here, as if they loved being seen and wanted to be seen -- and thankfully most appeared in groups, sidling past him in halls and sitting together in threes and fours, sometimes chatting and sometimes looking up to savor those who passed with sticky eyes.

(**onsen -- hot spring)

By the time he'd made it out of the soak-room, Kyouya felt like he'd been spray-painted with the words "sodomite," "meat," and "luscious, clueless virgin" a hundred times over, and no matter how hard he scrubbed, he'd never be washed clean.

Alright. Alright.

The most important thing, he told himself, was to avoid look like a straight man who'd stumbled in the wrong door. But that, too, was a tall order, especially when -- were he the sort of person who blushed, he might have been crimson to the tips of his toes. Not so much at the sight of others' nakedness and not-so-naked glances, but the fact that… what did this even make him? A mother hen, a pathetic chump, a moron chasing a lover who did not even want him?

How had the mighty fallen. 

If only a few months ago someone had told him what was to come, he would have laughed and had them hauled off to one of his family's hospitals -- to get their head examined.

He clutched the robe tighter, and tried to look sharp. He passed a long line of changing stalls, most of them occupied by men in poses of odalisques. The whole place looked like a secret battlefield, where anything could happen and everything was fair game, and lustrous, snakelike tile of the walls underscored that fact. Kaoru, of course, was nowhere to be seen, but Kyouya did not give up. He wasn't even sure what he wanted say to him -- but at the very least, he would do his duty.

He'd made a pass through the main hall, then through the sauna where the men sat perched on wooden bleachers, their figures half-dissolved in air. He thought he saw two men making love against the wall -- but quickly forced his eyes away.

Perhaps Kaoru had not found a partner yet. After all, you didn't just ask someone to have sex -- on what planet did they even do that?

A couple of men, surreptitiously brushing hands below, pushed on ahead, and Kyouya was almost glad the fog had settled over his glasses. It gave him the excuse to take them off -- but then he realized the men were British, or perhaps American. He heard a bit of English -- something that hitherto made him jump for joy -- for after all, not knowing French was not exactly inconvenient, but still made him feel ignorant -- and then he heard the content of their speech….

"Hey, I heard there's quite the show in the steam room. Apparently some red-headed twink --"

Kyouya did not know the word "twink" -- aside from the fact that it sounded like "twin" -- but then he didn't need to. Redheaded was enough. He felt an uncomfortable thrill in his stomach, and made quick tracks to follow the men, his heart in his ears.

…

Generally, Kyouya liked to think he was the rational sort. If something was not profitable -- if something did not stand a chance of advancing his ends, he generally disregarded it. In that way, he considered himself a "safe" man, and the whole thing with Kaoru -- from start to finish -- made him feel like he had run off the rails, and that there'd be a precipice opening up before him any time. He'd seen Kaoru on the ledge -- and also, way back when, he'd seen the expression on Kaoru's face as he confessed, and ever since then, he had been done. Ever since, he had been willfully, gleefully doing things he knew not why, rationalizing things he knew to be wrong, and yet…

By rights, he deserved this.

And then again, it wasn't as if he'd just discovered this. Even if, EVEN IF it was really Kaoru in there, performing for the cheering crowd, then it could only go to show what Kyouya knew already. That Kaoru was not ready to move on, and that it was Kyouya's unhappy duty -- though not much more -- to support him.

Still, his feet moved slower on their own accord as he approached the steam room. The buzz of hypotension filled his ears, and he saw the telltale stars emerging on the wall. His stomach churned. He heard men's voices -- echoes -- coming from the door across the way, and felt the warmth of air and mist -- but his feet still looked small from where he stood, and while he saw the lines of veins very clearly, nothing he could do could make them budge.

But no. He had to. Otherwise that stupid all-too-wiley brain of his would rationalize this too, convincing him that it wasn't Kaoru they were talking about. He had to see it himself, to kill that love dead, for what good was that love when all it did was maim him?

Armed with that thought, Kyouya took a step, eyes fixed on the moisture of the doorframe. He caught the door just as it shut, and pulled it open. A cloud of steam met his face, immediately settling on his glasses, but he bravely pulled them off and wiped them dry, feeling a surge of blood to his chest. 

Still, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he put them back on.

Kaoru was certainly there. Along with a forest of sweaty bodies, he saw Kaoru's profile, his skin milky whit against the tiles. His eyes were closed, and Kyouya could see the freckles on his back. His face was one of perfect bliss as he took a man in his mouth, face buried between his legs as another thrust behind him.

Everything he had thought up, so carefully planned out in his head, had gone like smoke. He let go of the door, and sank to his knees. The door slapped shut -- a sucker-like sound, and Kyouya felt he was five years old again, and sent to bed without any supper.

…

"Alors, qu'est-ce que ce passe?**"

(**What's going on?)

Kyouya felt a hand on his shoulder and stiffened.

"Je ne connais pas suffisamment français pour expliquer,**" he replied -- opting for the slightly more nuanced version of the truth. Besides, it was really how things were. He only knew enough to pay a fare or ask for directions, but certainly not enough to tell his whole life story.

(**I don't know enough French to explain.)

"Oh. I… see." The voice switched to heavily accented English. Kyouya looked up to find a man of indeterminate ethnicity, with grizzled sideburns. With some relief, he saw that the man was wearing a fairly long loin cloth, though he avoided the grizzled chest as he looked away.

The man did not, however, see fit to leave, and lowered himself down gingerly, placing his hands on his knees.

"Well, maybe you should move out of the hallway. People will trip."

"Oh." 

Kyouya made a move to get up, but his legs gave way immediately. He tried several more times to shuffle away, only to plop down where the changing cabins ended. The man followed his moves with a quizzical eye, and when Kyouya sat back down, he did not leave either.

"Euh. Bad trip?"

Kyouya swallowed, his adam's apple moving up and down. 

"Yes. Though I'm not sure why you're interested."

"Oh, I have seen many in my time. I know a man who is down on his luck." Through his bangs, Kyouya saw the man wink, and felt a slimy shiver up his arm.

"Leave me alone," he said, putting on his best warning tone -- the one he used with the Host Club at their worst. "I'm not here for -- for anything." 

The man smirked.

"Oh, then let me guess -- lover's quarrel -- or how you say --?"

Kyouya clenched his teeth, sucking in a whiff of air, and did not reply.

"Look, whatever it is, I have been there." The man gave a throaty chuckle, patting his chest. "Twenty long years of experience, hah."

Kyouya nearly scoffed -- and couldn't care less if the man heard him.

Yes. Pity me, why don't know. 

"My ex is a slut," he spat bitterly, feeling the urge to vomit -- like bugs scrambling up his throat.

"Oh." A pause. "Is that your word for it?"

Kyouya did not answer, drawing a noisy breath.

"We break up, and ten minutes later he has sex with two other men."

The man seemed ripe to say something, but merely gave a loud clap -- the sound resounding against the walls. For a few seconds, the fluorescent lights were all Kyouya heard, and felt himself grow green.

"Well," the man said, gathering himself, "If he is indeed an ex, then I hate to bear bad news -- how you say -- but who he sleeps with is none of your affair. Minus the juicy details, of course."

Kyouya felt the bugs crawl further up his esophagus. He'd THOUGHT he never wanted to hit someone so badly in his entire life -- he had been wrong. About Tamaki, and about Kaoru beforehand. He imagined, in vivid colors, the meeting of his fist and the portly stomach.

"Every slut, as you say, has his reasons. Maybe he's hurt. Maybe he wants to forget. Cleanse his palate -- you know. Talk to him. Even if you're not in love anymore, it is possible to be friends. I am friends with many of my exes, and we still share many good times." 

Kyouya scrunched up his face. The man looked at him questioningly -- though from behind his own bangs, it was hard to tell.

"Was he faithful to you when you were together?"

"Yes," Kyouya sieved through his teeth.

Well, in a manner speaking anyway. Unless emotional, subconscious -- he wasn't even sure what sort of metaphysical cheating counted.

"Then he is not a slut."

The man made a move to pat Kyouya's the shoulder, but the boy drew violently away. Somewhere far away, a door slammed and a shower turned on, and then another.

"He gave you a piece of himself. Don't cheapen it. All I can say. It hurts now, but he hurts too, no matter what he does, and that makes two of you." 

…

"K--kyou?"

Kyouya did not look up. He did not need to. Kaoru's voice came from up above, and it felt like the man with the grizzled sideburns was still near his field of vision. After Kyouya had ceased answering, the man had not gone away, and seemed to be waiting for a resolution that would not come, for Kyouya sat there stewing, a palpable purple cloud over his head.

As a shadow with serrated bangs fell over him, though, he found he had no choice. The bile forced its way up his throat and got the better of him.

From down below, Kaoru looked pale and cool, his eyes olive in the fluorescence. A man stood just behind him -- his features melted into the light, and if the ginger recognized Kyouya, he gave no sign.

The man with the grizzled chest seemed to sense the tension, and took one step closer, with a squeak of flip-flops.

"Kaoru."

"Yes, Kyouya?"

"Well, looks like I found you," Kyouya said in pointed English for the sake of those present. He did his best to sound acrid, but it came as a pale showing of his former self. "At least I can tell your mother I wasn't remiss in my duties."

Kaoru's face remained stony, but Kyouya sensed a bit of wind returning to his sails, for the man behind Kaoru stepped back. The age of consent was 15, and Kyouya's ID had been checked to make sure he was really that old, but the word "Mother" put a statutory bent on things. 

"Okay then," Kaoru replied, likewise in English, his eyes half-closed and his voice like poisoned honey. "Then go on and wait for me outside. No need to give yourself a panic attack -- obviously this isn't your scene."

Kyouya gritted his teeth.

"No."

"No?"

"No." Kyouya lowered his eyes to the floor. Under the lights, Kaoru's skin had a sickly green appearance. "I don't trust you anymore, and besides, haven't you had enough for one day?"

Kaoru's eyes were cold. "Well, since you broke up with me, I don't see how this is your concern."

Kyouya nearly snarled.

The gall on that kid. By rights, he ought to have left right then and there and let him get fucked senseless.

"You know perfectly well why this is my concern," he squeezed through his teeth. "You're my responsibility while we're here. And I didn't break up with you -- I merely said that I'd be happy to be in a relationship when you wanted a relationship, and not just a rebound."

"Yeah, tomato, to-mah-toe."

"O-kay, you two have clearly got some things to work out," said the man with the sideburns, taking a sideways step away and toward the man who'd come with Kaoru, motioning him away with his hand. "So, uh -- take good care, right?" The last words were directed at Kyouya, who still sat looking down, determined to count the tiles in the floor. He looked up long enough to incinerate the men with his gaze.

"Did you at least use a condom?" -- he spat at soon as the door shut behind them.

"Sh-yeah." Kaoru rolled his eyes in the direction of a flat, metal box with a medical cross on the wall. Evidently, a condom machine. "I'm not that big into Russian Roulette."

"Yeah." Kyouya scoffed. "I wonder. And you're supposed to be the mature one."

"Yeah," Kaoru reparteed a venomous glance. "You guys are the one that came up with the notion, not me."

Kyouya folded his arms, settling back and pulling his calves out from under him. The other men gone, he was starting to feel sick, but in a different way -- as if he'd taken a savage beating.

"Look, Kaoru," he said laboriously, and took hold of the cubicle wall behind him. "I don't know if this is a cry for help, or a way of taking revenge, but your actions do NOT strike me as those of a well-adjusted person."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have broken up with me," Kaoru folded his arms at well, features opaque and voice infuriatingly singsong. "If you hadn't broken up with me, none of this wouldn't happened."

Kyouya was halfway up the wall and had to bite back a snarl. 

"I don't just mean THIS. I mean EVERYTHING. If this is how you're going to act if you don't get your way, then I've got bad news for you, Kaoru --"

"Oh, you know what, Kyouya? Just fuck off already. Don't tell me what I can and can't do -- you're only 'mommy' in Tamaki's crazed imagination."

Kyouya's mouth nearly fell open. He was nearly standing on his two feet, but something about the Hitachiin's voice warded off the remnants of hypotension, and suddenly he felt a white-hot rage. Rage, and pure, unadulterated self-pity.

"Alright, fine." He turned around, slowly, facing the condom machine on the wall. "But what I'd really like to know is, does this make you happy, Kaoru? Does it make you feel better -- not knowing what to do with yourself, so you try and make everyone else as miserable as you?" He chuckled acidly, taking a step back. "And to think what a fool I've been, trusting a Hitachiin. You're just like him. Using others for your entertainment and then --"

"You know, your mother was a Hitachiin."

….!

Kyouya's mouth dropped open, this time with little resistance. 

Fuck, damn, shit, fuck.

Of course she'd been. Not in name, of course -- his grandmother had been a "nee Hitachiin," no more -- and yet she was, by blood anyway, and he was a fool not to have calculated that far.

He nearly toppled over, clenching his fist against his mouth and taking a noisy breath.

A part of him had wondered if it was inevitable -- that ever since he had given in to his feelings for the boy -- no, ever since they'd become one, he had been making a lot of misses. Inexcusable misses. It was as if a screw had gotten loose and rolled away, and now every other part of him was following suit, running on fumes and leaving his nuts and bolts all over the roadways. Or, no, better yet he was like a cancer -- one cell had caught a fatal mutation, and now its progeny was acquiring more and more -- in geometric progression as he lost himself bit by bit, and felt powerless to stop it.

The condom machine's green cross -- the medical cross, or that of Switzerland's flag -- was boring into his retinas -- a disgusting, schlocky, chemical green.

"Don't… TALK about my mother." 

He took a step forward -- then another, and would have stepped right into Kaoru if the latter had not jumped aside. 

"Don't EVER talk about my mother -- you understand?!"

His fist met the metal with a terrifying crunch. Condoms spilled all over the floor, but he barely noticed them. 

Kaoru turned rapidly pale.

"Understand?!"

"Y-yes…"

And yet, truth be told, Kyouya hardly knew what his mother was like -- hardly linked her with the concept of "Hitachiin," or any concept at all... 

"Kyouya, your hand…" -- he heard Kaoru voice.

Kyouya continued to breathe hard, eyes boring into steel. 

"It's nothing. I'll be fine."

"It… looks pretty bad." 

Kaoru's voice sounded like he was one step closer. Kyouya shook his head, but the buzzing did not go away. 

The edges of the box were very straight, except for the place where he had dented it, and that dent looked almost… artful. Like a Rodin sculpture.

"I think we need to get it looked at --"

Kyouya looked down.

It really did look bad. Not only was his palm swelling up, but the knuckles seeped blood, and one knuckle was strangely retracted. He did not feel anything, though, and it didn't hurt when he moved.

"We… really should get that checked out."

Kyouya did not answer. He took several more breaths, but it merely served to make the numbeness subside, and the pain to swell.

"Come on," Kaoru pulled at his elbow. "We need to get out of here, anyway. They'll see you've destroyed club property, and then we'll never hear the end of it."

Kyouya let himself get drawn away, suddenly feeling unsteady on his feet. The Hitachiin saw him to the door, but not before hastily squatting to gather up the fallen condoms.

…

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Kyouya took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Apparently, I got something called a Boxer's fracture. Except real boxers don't get them, because real boxers know how to punch." 

He gave a dry chuckle.

Kaoru smiled and sat by Kyouya's side, extending a bottle of water. The top was screwed off, and Kyouya accepted it with a nod of thanks, taking a long draw.

"You know, it's almost funny," he mused, looking out at the skyline. Its string of streetlights hugged the beach, and his hand no longer hurt, courtesy of some prescription-strength painkillers. That, and the airy elevator music of the lobby made him feel almost too good, swaddled in a blanket of Celtic-sounding harp chords.

"I wouldn't have thought a doctor in a random ER in France would speak enough English to talk to me without an interpreter," he said. "I always thought French people either didn't want to speak English, didn't care enough, or didn't know how -- though I guess the last time I was here my brothers were the ones who did the talking."

"Yeah." Kaoru sat back, folding his hands behind his head. "I feel like the stereotype is only true for Americans, though. They're the ones who have a bad rap, and they're the ones no one wants to talk to. Whereas Japanese people -- nobody really dislikes us. I can't even think of any bad stereotypes, except for the whole creepy filming everything as you walk thing."

"Oh." Kyouya chuckled. "And don't forget the dressing up where other people dress down, and how all Japanese women use parasols in the summer." Kyouya smiled with half his mouth. "And the whole polite to a fault thing, too. Like robots."

"Yeah. Though I guess that means we'd better keep the stuff about you vandalizing property on the down-low. Don't want to be the apple that ruins the batch."

Kyouya's smile stretched wider.

"You've never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope!" The Hitachiin grinned. "Never! From now on I OWN your arse. Too bad I didn't get it on video."

Kyouya chuckled lightly, and Kaoru looked down, suddenly sheepish, and ran one thumb over the other.

"I'm sorry, by the way. I really was pretty awful to you there."

Kyouya smirked.

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. But let's not talk about that now, shall we? I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

Kaoru frowned.

"No, I was. You were nothing but good to me, and what did I do? I ran away, and then I -- " He looked down again, and bit a lip. "And maybe you were right. Maybe we're not meant for each other. You're an Ootori, after all. It's not like this could've gone anywhere long-term."

Kyouya looked over at the boy, and cast an appraising look over the long limbs, tapering into strong, well-toned shoulders. Somehow, Kaoru gave off the impression of being strong, despite an overall delicate frame, and in the yellow light his face looked a good deal friendlier.

"You're mistaken about that, actually."

Indeed, Kaoru was nothing short of panicked as they left the bathhouse, and refused to leave his side even in the doctor's office, circling and wringing his hands like an anxious dog whose master tied him up and left. The staff had even begun to wonder if something was afoot -- a drug overdose perhaps, or foul play -- and the nurse had deemed it wise to question Kyouya in the privacy of the x-ray room while the doctor gave antibiotics "just in case," evidently unconvinced that the scratches came from an inanimate object instead of somebody else's chipped tooth.

A pause.

The Hitachiin looked up -- with a "huh" that didn't quite have it in it to break free from his lips.

Kyouya fought the urge to look down, and kept his eyes on the freckles of Kaoru's cheekbones.

"I… know this might not be a satisfying answer for you right now, but I would have found a way. I know I've said that serving my family is my first priority, but I don't feel like this would have been in conflict with that. After all, I've always assumed I would end up in an arranged marriage, but it's not as if the future of the company depends on it. There are other ways I can contribute, and I'm not the oldest, nor the only son. If I were, then it might have been different --"

"But --"

"And it is the 21st century, after all. Sure, it might be the talk of the town for a few months -- the Ootori boy who turned out to be gay -- but people will get over it. Being gay isn't much an oddity anymore -- not even where we're from."

"A-and your father?"

"Oh." Kyouya cocked his head. "Well, he knows he owes me, if nothing else. For the Tonnere affair, and for some other things, too. Besides, with the way my older brother's marriage turned out, I doubt he thinks arranged marriages are such a good thing anymore."

He hardly needed to say more. Kaoru didn't know what happened, not exactly -- not with Tonnere and not with Yoshio Ootori and his wife, but he knew of the company that was buying business after business in Japan, and the marriage between Tamaki and Eclair Tonnere that was meant to put a stop to it. The marriage did not happen, and Tonnere went away, but Kaoru had a feeling Kyouya had a hand in it.

Kaoru smiled and looked down at his palms, curling in his fingers.

"Hah. You WOULD." He paused, as if in quiet disbelief of what Kyouya had implied -- and what he had just-missed. "Think it all through, I mean. But I guess I've missed the boat with my bad behavior, huh?"

"Once again. Not necessarily."

It was Kaoru's turn to pause, and he looked up, slowly cocking an eyebrow. "Really. And here I thought you were Mr. Darcy -- your good opinion, once lost, was lost forever. At least I thought the bathhouse show would've killed it stone-dead."

Kyouya shrugged.

"Well, yes, that's true. But I also know that people are large, and contain multitudes. Behavior isn't always what it seems on the surface. Your acts might seem childish now, but it's really a complex situation, no?"

Kaoru was silent, staring at his hands. Kyouya ran a finger over his bandage, and watched from the corner of his eye.

"But you don't NEED to do this," Kaoru said, chewing his lip. "No one's forcing you. Besides, I have no idea when I'll be okay again -- it might not be for a very long time." He laced his fingers together, as if in a grid, and smiled ruefully.

"Well, maybe you're right," Kyouya replied. "But if not me, then who?"

Kaoru sniffed, the chain around his neck glimmering wanly. The furniture in the room didn't look so spartan anymore, and Kyouya found he rather liked the shade, with its stylized circles and triangles.

"Kind of a strange excuse to go all this way, though."

"I know." Kyouya turned back to the skyline. The sea was lovely, dark and deep and rolling back and forth -- a large, slumbering beast. Suddenly, he thought of wading in it knee-deep, and Kaoru calling out to him.

"Look," he said, "I don't want to give up; I want to know what this is. I know it might be -- pigheaded of me…"

He hated to admit it, but between the pain of the fracture, the way everything moved so slowly after that, and Kaoru's panicked fretting in the car, all that had happened seemed like a bad dream -- from the night before to the visions in the bathhouse.

He sighed.

"I just… Want to make sure we talk more now from now on, alright, Kaoru? I just want to make sure" -- that we're on the same team. I feel like we're playing hide and seek, and mystery only gets the romance so far. "I… want to make sure that you talk to me. Like when I asked if this is how you deal with what had happened, remember?"

Kaoru nodded, a bit sullenly. Kyouya waited, hunching over a bit to catch his eyes.

"Okay," Kaoru replied. "And I'm sorry about that too, by the way. I guess I don't really know how I feel about Hikaru right now." He paused, blinking twice. "I know it's not love, though. Not like it was before. I cannot love him after what he's done, I just --"

Kyouya raised his eyebrows.

"I just… Don't want everyone to think I'm sick, like there's something wrong with me," he said dully. "I think that's the biggest thing you can do to help me right now."

Kyouya shifted over, closer to his friend, and raised his good arm, draping it over his shoulder. 

"Kaoru, I… You don't need to worry about that."


	12. Kyouya Ootori, Fool

"K-kaoru, p-please, can we at least talk it over first?! Th-this is a hospital, if nothing else!"

It hadn't taken much smiling and stroking of Kaoru's neck for things to end up as they did, and part of Kyouya had even foreseen that. In half a minute less than no time, Kaoru had tried to climb into his lap, and his lips were leaving wet marks all over his neck and clavicles.

"Aw, Kyouya, come on, don't think of it as getting together - think of it as therapy -" Kaoru's lips found their mark with a delicious smack.

Kyouya felt the remains of his sanity going, and wondered what to do. In fact, he was disappointed. It seemed like it didn't matter what he said or did - there was nothing to suggest that Kaoru wouldn't return to the same patterns…

"But for goodness' sake, that's exactly the point, Kaoru!"

He gave the Hitachiin a push in the chest - not too hard, or so he hoped - with his good hand, closing his fingers on the front of his shirt.

Kaoru paused, but for once did look like he was about to cry.

Kyouya took a few deep breaths, and stared down Kaoru's gaze. With any luck, things would end up in his favor, but all the same, it was now or never.

"Look," he said, taking another breath. "I was wrong to reject you before, and I am sorry for that. First and foremost, I WILL remain by your side as long as you like - you can count on that. But the fact of the matter is, I'm concerned, that's all."

He paused, scrutinizing Kaoru's face. He chose his words carefully, more than mindful of the other's fear that they were making too much of his situation. But Kaoru looked blank, and all Kyouya could do was implore that the real Kaoru was in there somewhere - beyond the genki, overly-energetic, sex-puppet-like facade.

"Only you know yourself best," he went on stolidly. "And I am happy to embark on whatever cathartic adventures may be helpful to you right now. But I do worry, though -"

He sighed.

Was there any good way to say this? Namely, that he didn't trust Kaoru's judgment and was skeptical of his "coping mechanisms"? Part of him was convinced that a man couldn't go through what Kaoru had and remain sane - and on top of that, the Kaoru he knew was not a man of action. The Kaoru he knew liked to mull things over and think things through, to retreat inside his shell and simmer for days on end, and if he was acting out this much, there was heavy repression going on.

Kaoru looked back demurely, hands on his knees. Kyouya glanced over his face - just to gauge its "temperature" - before taking another breath.

"Look, I am not going to sugarcoat it, but you do not strike me as different now." He glanced into the other's eyes - just long enough to ensure that what he'd said would not be taken for an accusation. "And that's natural; things happen and people do change. In a way, though, I believe it's just as wrong to downplay the significance of what happened as it is to walk around it on tiptoe."

His eyes flickered over Kaoru's face once more, fully expecting him to wince.

"I just - think you ought to talk to Hikaru at some point. It's an important part of moving forward. Not necessarily to let him back into your life, or even to let him know how you feel, but just to… consider it. It does not even need to be face to face, and I can be be present for it too if you like."

Kyouya had slackened his grip on the shirt, and Kaoru was silent. There was something different about the silence, though.

"No, you're right," he nodded. His cheek had turned pink as he stared at his sneakers, the laces loosened toward the top. "You're definitely right. I do have to do that at some point."

Kyouya nodded, and allowed himself a smile as he shifted his hand to Kaoru's shoulder.

"I think there is a difference between making a life on your own, and running away. I'm glad we understand each other."

Kaoru glanced at him with a wry grin, folds gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Says the man who whisked me away to France."

Kyouya pressed his lips.

"Well, certainly, guilty as charged. But while vacation does wonders for gaining perspective and rejuvenating one's self, sooner or later you always come back - I never denied that."

"Heh. True enough." Kaoru shrugged and smiled at his knees, running his hands up and down his board-shorts.

"Here, let's get out of here." Kyouya rubbed his friend's shoulder, leaning in with his torso. "Despite appearances, I don't like to spend my time in hospitals any more than the next man."

Kaoru leaned into the touch. "Hah, and here I thought it was in the Ootori blood."

"Well, I suppose I did too, but even I surprise myself on occasion."

…

Kaoru was walking down the street, arms akimbo and smiling at the sky. Night had descended, but even with the dome of lights, the stars could still be seen above. The street was what Europeans called an "alley," - an avenue split in two by a pedestrian walk, and two lines of trees forming a colonnade on either side. The air smelled of earth and freshly ground mulch, and the branches nearly fused overhead - blocking out some of the glow and zooming in on Ursa Major.

"You know, I almost don't want to go to Eze tonight, Kyouya. It's… too quiet in the mountains. I want to stay here."

Kyouya was striding a few steps behind and watching Kaoru's movements. Having let go of his hand when the twin expressed a desire to skip and swing his arms, Kyouya was once again second-guessing himself. All told, he wanted to believe that Kaoru was a rational being, for he listened to what Kyouya had to say and always agreed in the end. Rather passively, but still agreed, which was enough to make Kyouya believe that the rational Kaoru was still in there. But he had no confirmation, no promise, no guarantee -

Kaoru looked up at the near-convergent branches, and took in a chestful of air.

"There's just… more life here, I don't know. I feel like I want to be a part of things right now." He swung his arms once more, in two large circles, and took a running start to hop onto the nearest bench.

Kyouya followed him with a chuckle, and stopped at the foot of the bench, clasping him around the waist and pressing his face into his chest. Beyond the quiet alley, the city was still very much alive. When they left the hospital, Kaoru had been walking along with a happy - nay, blissful smile, taking it all in along with the yellow light that spilled across the sidewalks. Every window was alight, and in places, one could see the silhouettes of people moving around dinner tables and television sets - an altogether bizarre sight to Kyouya, who had been raised on a division of public and private space as clear as night and day itself. Still, no one else seemed to mind the effortless fusion of living room and street, and besides - there was so much more to watch for with boutiques and souvenir shops alike doing brisk business. There'd even been a flower stand, just closing up, and Kyouya had a mind to buy Kaoru a bouquet, which he'd since thought better of and regretted. They were in Europe after all, and in Europe, if more so than in Japan, bouquets on dates were the universal symbol of romance. Kyouya had just started to wonder if he should go back - if there was perhaps another place he might buy a set of flowers, when by coincidence, they came upon the peaceful alley.

"Alright, that's fine - but we will need to find a place to sleep - and call Rose so she does not expect us in the morning. Unless you plan on wandering until dawn." Kyouya smiled and kissed the top of Kaoru's chest, lifting him up and setting him on the pavement.

"Would it be alright if we did?" - Kaoru chuckled. Somehow, he was even more starry-eyed - if that was possible - than he had been before, and Kyouya imagined a stylized spark and crown of flowers in his hair.

"Well, yes, I suppose, although I would prefer to at least have the option of a bed. It's up to you, however."

Kaoru nodded and smiled. "I agree. Maybe some hotel around here - assuming they're not booked five weeks ahead." He laughed and spun around, out of Kyouya's reach.

Kyouya followed along, wondering at himself. Truly, he had no idea if Kaoru had something up his sleeve - he no longer seemed TOO happy, though marginally at best, and in the end, that "seemed" was itself the problem. Kyouya wanted certainty - something Kaoru could not give him right then, and yet he felt strangely at peace about it, letting himself be stung along like a paper ship through a current. A book he'd read years ago came to mind - Naomi, by Jun'ichiro Tanizaki, a classic he had finished half-heartedly that part of just every Japanese school curriculum.

In the book, the narrator - Joji - had taken in a girl, whom he decided to mold into his vision of the "perfect woman." Apparently, this was far better than marrying a woman set in her ways, but he got his just desserts when Naomi refused to submit to his will and began manipulating him instead - which he realized too late, when he was firmly in love with her. In fact, another name for the book was "A Fool's Love," and at one point the narrator advanced the theory that every man who was ever "ruined" by a woman - from Marc Anthony and Caesar, competent and capable leaders as they were, to the Tokugawa lords of old, to just about every hero of a feud where behind it all stood a woman… "Cherchez la femme" - is that what the French said? The point was, all those men had been done in because they'd let themselves be done in, consciously and deliberately, every step of the way choosing to believe the most favorable and innocent explanation. The only reason Kyouya had not thought much of the book was because he'd believed himself to be above such things, and yet now, Joji's words came to resonate with him more clearly than he liked to admit.

After all, had he not done the same, from the very beginning? From the very start, he had known that something was amiss when Kaoru started showing him affection. From the very start, too, he had known that he ought to have done whatever it took to keep himself awake and to hold Kaoru's hand, perceptions be damned. But he had not done it. He had not wanted to, and the most shocking part was the ease with which his mind accepted the circumstances.

…

Time passed, and Kaoru's movements began to seem more frenetic to Kyouya, at which point he caught up with him in a brightly lit square for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, and seized hold of his arm in front of a fountain. The fountain was lit from below, giving off the impression of a Disney Park or Versailles, and it was there that Kyouya finally gathered up his strength and proposed they call it a night. Kaoru, as always, did nothing to object, but when he nodded and started to pull away, Kyouya gathered up his courage and yanked his arm backwards, indicating his refusal to let go. Kaoru, for his part, glanced behind him - a little startled, but slowed his step all the same, timing his strides to fall in step with Kyouya.

"I'm just not sure what you see in me," he sighed - answering the wordless question in Kyouya's eyes. "It's just -"

Kyouya stopped and stepped deftly in front of him.

"Nonsense."

Kaoru blinked, stopping short and angling his eyes toward Kyouya's collarbones.

"Look, just hold my hand," Kyouya whispered as he pulled the twin close. "Please. I won't hurt you."

Kaoru seemed to falter, and looked further down still, but made no move to pull away. Kyouya leaned in and kissed him on the temple, and when they began to walk again, Kaoru did not try to skip ahead.

…

The hotel was just like any other - in their experience anyway - and their suite was just like any other: the molding and baseboard the color of brushed gold, and the furniture and drapings done up in Louis XV style, a faux fireplace with an ormolu clock under glass delineating one of the rooms as the "living room."

As they made their way up the steps - the building was an old one, and had no elevators - Kaoru's mood seemed to darken, and though he did not let go of Kyouya's hand, as the lock clicked behind them, Kyouya thanked his lucky stars that at least he had thought that far ahead, and if Kaoru was going to deteriorate again, at least he was going to do it in a confined space.

He let go of Kaoru's hand and the twin came to pause at the window, the blue of the moonlight stopping on his face.

"What's on your mind?"

Kyouya came up behind him.

Kaoru's eyes were aimed outside, and he hardly made a move to answer.

Kyouya sighed. Inside, the air was different - dryer, with a decided chemical feel. Kyouya placed his lips, gently, over a sliver of shoulder where it met the neck, and Kaoru tensed up.

"I just… Don't understand. Why you forgave me."

"Oh."

Kyouya paused, his hands arresting in their progress as well. Two slender, barely muscled arms shivered under his hold, and Kaoru breathed spasmodically.

"I don't -" Kyouya swallowed. "Well, to be honest, I don't understand it either." He bent his head, lingering over the spot where he had kissed. Even after the long day, Kaoru's skin still tasted tart, like the lemon perfume Kyouya had bought him.

Kaoru stepped away with a forced exhale.

"Look, it's - it's like… I want you to hit me or something, I don't know."

"I - I'm sorry?"

Kyouya glanced up, and Kaoru's face caught the long block of light from the window.

"Come on, Kyouya, I know you're angry. Anyone in their right mind would be, after today -"

"That's NOT the point."

But Kaoru was already pacing the room, and Kyouya's cool demeanor seemed hardly enough - at least this time.

"Kaoru, I am not going to go along with this," he tried again.

But Kaoru paused mid-step, merely looking up as if he'd finished incinerating the carpet and his next victim was Kyouya.

"I know you're not, but it's like…. It's like my skin wants it." He raised his hands, pressing his fingertips against his chest. "It's like… I don't know, if you were to touch me that way, I'd rather have it be like you found me up at a bar and just want to use me or something -"

"Kaoru, I am not going to listen to this."

Kaoru's his mouth twitched at the sides, and turned into a laughing grimace.

"But, Kyouya, I WANT you to hit me." He chuckled airily. "Please. You know it's not that hard. All I want is my arms bruised, my skin scratched… For you to take off your belt and beat me like a child -"

"Kaoru, STOP."

Kaoru inhaled. Kyouya had caught his wrist, twisting it - and rather painfully, if he gauged his own strength right. The air-conditioned air brushed and swished around his ankles.

"I understand," he said slowly, slackening his grip on Kaoru's wrist before letting it drop - though not out out his grasp. He took a few more breaths before speaking again. "But tell me one thing, Kaoru. If I do it, will it help? Will it really be enough, or is it never going to be enough?"

Kaoru seemed to think for a moment.

"I… don't know, Kyouya. I can't tell things that far ahead…"

Kyouya reached into his pocket and entered a code, which he remembered by touch, into his phone.

"Well, then I can't very well do it in good conscience, because for all I know you'll want to be abused as a pattern, and I can't do that -"

Kaoru let out a wheeze. Kyouya pursed his lips.

"Kyouya, please," the younger boy whispered. "It - it WILL help. I don't know if it'll FIX things, but it will help."

Kyouya looked away, letting the silence linger. Kaoru's breaths were all but whimpers and wheezes now - almost without exception - and Kyouya felt his body against his, pressing in simpering, wordless argument.

"Alright," Kyouya's said. "But then if I'm going to provide you with - recreational scolding, we're going to need one thing, and that's a safe word."

"A... safe word?"

"Well, you understand, when you're asking someone to inflict some pain on you for fun, crying and yelling things like 'no' and 'stop' is all part of the process. Whereas if you genuinely want me to stop - if I've crossed a line or you've truly had enough, you need a different way to get my attention. A safe word is just that. Something you wouldn't normally say in bed - like, oh, say… lavender."

"Lavender? Okay."

Kaoru ceased to whimper, and Kyouya let go of his wrist.

"If there are rules, and it will be a cathartic experience, I don't see why not" - he shrugged emphatically.

Kaoru nodded, his cheeks tapering slowly to a flush of red, and took a step away, toward the bed. In wordless answer, he reached to undo his shirt, and Kyouya followed it slipping over his shoulders. The floor was was covered with a thick, Turkish rug, and its pattern matched that of the bedspread. Kaoru let the shirt fall to the ground.

"Okay, good." Kyouya nodded. "And while we're at it, I'd like to add to the fantasy, if I may."

He stepped toward Kaoru and picked up the shirt, then motioned him to kneel by the bed frame. He then crouched down as well and slipped the belt from out of Kaoru's pants, arranging his forearms on the blanket before him. Looping the belt around his wrists, he secured them good and tight, then pulled himself to his feet, walking over to the door where he had left his backpack. Once there, he extracted his camera and clipped off the strap, bringing it to Kaoru to bind his ankles.

Kaoru did not move as Kyouya put on the trappings.

"Is that alright? Not too tight?"

Kaoru shook his head.

Kyouya took a step back, admiring his handiwork.

"Uh, Kyouya?" Kaoru poked his head upward.

"Yes?"

"If I suddenly stop moving or go limp, can you stop too? I mean, I've still got my - issue, even if I take pills for it now."

"No problem."

"Alright."

Kaoru turned away, and Kyouya fiddled with his belt-buckle, listening to the metal click. What did he WANT? Did any part of him want to hit Kaoru? There was no denying it, everyone thought he had a sadistic streak, but it was only because of the persona he had cultivated. Aside from that, there was certainly something tantalizing about Kaoru's shoulder blades, so heartbreakingly pale in the fluorescent moonlight, and the possibility, if nothing else, of tottering on the brink -

Well, what are you waiting for? The man asked you for a favor, so it's only fitting that you oblige, is it not?

Kyouya pulled back the strap, and yanked his belt from its belt-loops, holding it out.

Kaoru turned at the sound, and the sight of Kyouya with his empty hand, having let go of the belt, met his eyes.

"I'm not going to do it," Kyouya said, kneeling down. "I changed my mind. You're welcome to try it yourself - but if I'm correct in assuming, your hands are a bit tied at the moment."

He chuckled.

Kaoru swallowed, uncomfortably.

"I won't do it." Kyouya repeated, reaching for the belt around Kaoru's wrists.

"W-why not? I asked you to…"

"Isn't it obvious why not? This cycle of violence has to stop, so I'm stopping it." He moved to undo the buckle around Kaoru's wrists. Kaoru shivered and went limp, and Kyouya put his arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss into his neck.

"Here, why don't we go shower. If you want to feel some pain, I can rub you extra-hard with a loofah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, guys, I'm still deeply in love with the Kaoru/Kyouya ship, but as you can see, I am steering things back towards Hikaru, slowly.


	13. North

The next morning, Kyouya went to the club and apologized for the broken condom machine, offering to pay for damages. Kaoru stood by his side with a supportive smile, and the clean-cut, nearly all-twink staff was so unabashedly shocked that someone would come in and confess that they gladly accepted Kyouya's offer and insisted that they never even thought of tracking him down or pressing charges. Kyouya, in his turn, insisted that they treat the condom machine as a gift, and somehow ended up leaving the place a more favoured customer than he was before.

The two of them were making tracks from old-town Nice toward the Roman arches when they came upon a flower-stand and Kyouya stopped, glancing meditatively at the bouquets hanging upside down. The flowers of Provence were all well-represented, many still clad in the morning dew. There was the ubiquitous lavender, which they never found a field of for Kaoru after all, to the bright yellow puffballs of mimosa, to the bright starlike mouths of hyacynth, in purple, blue, and pink. Kaoru paused beside Kyouya and mimicked his stance, and for a moment the two were silent.

"That one, please," Kyouya indicated a medium-sized specimen. The vendor pulled it down, and Kyouya reached for his billfold, waving a hand to indicate that no, he did not want the bouquet wrapped in butcher paper.

"Hmm, a bit too much lavender for my taste," he said as they walked away.

"Oh, well -"

Kyouya plucked the pale, long stems from the bouquet and gave a smile.

"It means 'distrust,' as I've recently learned, and I wonder if they appreciate the irony, what with the whole coastline covered in it."

Kaoru continued to smile with the apples of his cheeks, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. They had come to an arch, and beyond it lay the open street, marking the end of the cobblestoned walkways. In the pearlescent light of the morning, the whole scene looked a bit apocalyptic.

"I guess it's no surprise that you don't like it, then," Kaoru said as he peered at a middle-aged woman wrapped in a shawl - homeless or local or perhaps both - who was the feeding birds.

"Oh, I didn't know what it meant when I first began to dislike it."

Kaoru shrugged and leaned against the terra-cotta colored stucco.

"Yeah, but I still think you've got a tendency to sense things, so I wouldn't be surprised if you 'sensed' that, too."

"Maybe." Kyouya stopped as well, leaning beside Kaoru as he plucked the last sprig from the bunch. All that remained was a mass of blue hyacynth and some flowering dogwood, the flowers' starlike faces like those of baby birds, peering with open mouths toward the heavens.

"I still think it's funny that you know anything about it - you don't seem the type." Kaoru smiled. "Unless it's just your memory that's that amazing. Which I wouldn't be surprised if it were."

"Oh, that. Well, I started researching flowers when you started to look into perfumes. I came upon that tidbit by chance - the fact that flowers have meanings. I thought it was a marketable concept, so I tucked it away." Kyouya pursed his lips. The bouquet looked a bit bare now, with only a bit of pink and white to break up the blue.

Kaoru shrugged. "I guess it is. Probably a bit arbitrary with how some of the meanings came about, but yeah, there's something sweet about, like saying I love you in your native language, but the person you love doesn't speak it."

"This is for you."

Kaoru glanced up. Kyouya was holding the bouquet, the lavender in a tight bunch in his other hand.

"For me?"

"Yes. We are in Europe after all, and what is a European holiday without some flowers?"

"Oh." Kaoru accepted the bouquet, cradling it against his body as if it were a child or an injured animal. "Thank you." He inspected the flowers with a warm ochre gaze. "What's this one mean?"

"Consistency. That would be the blue hyacynth. I'm not sure what the small white flowers mean, and the lavender - well, obviously." He turned the bundle over in his hand and smirked. "I'm keeping that one to myself - and getting rid of it as soon as possible."

"Oh. The poor lavender." Kaoru chuckled, gently stroking one of the hyacynth-mouths. "I guess we need to find it a good home."

"Truth be told, I am a bit wary of giving it to anyone."

Kaoru took a long sniff of the flowers, a peachy glow coming over his cheeks.

"You don't suppose the pigeons will eat it..."

Kyouya cast a glance at the apocalyptic square, the birds flying in ebbs and flows around the woman who stood like a shaman in the middle of it all.

"No, I don't think so. They seem fairly well-fed as it is."

"Keep it, then. Put it in a book, wait until you meet someone you distrust. I'm sure it won't take long."

Kyouya shook his head.

"No. It came from the bouquet I bought for YOU. I don't want to keep it. IF that means anything."

Kaoru nodded slowly, and took another breath as he peeled his back away from the wall.

"I know, Kyouya-senpai. And I'm sorry. For everything. I'm really sorry I couldn't be a better person for you."

Kyouya shook his head and opened his arms, pulling his lover into them. Kaoru's breath grew ragged, and he almost lowered his eyes, but Kyouya caught his chin just in time.

"You're good enough, Kaoru. No need to be sorry. Don't ever let yourself believe you're not good enough."

And I will love you for the both of us, for as long as I need to, until you see that.

Kaoru looked like he was about to cry, but instead glanced up, the misty light glancing against his irises.

"I - love you, Kyouya-senpai… I really do."

"I love you too."

"I just want to be happy, that's all -"

Kyouya nodded. "I understand – happiness can be elusive."

"I just don't know why it has to be this hard… Why I feel like I'm on edge all the time, and why I do all these stupid things."

Kyouya drew a sigh and pulled Kaoru closer still, applying a gentle pressure to the slender back.

"It will pass, I promise."

He took away one hand, and drew it firmly over Kaoru's hair, smoothing down the locks that the twin gelled in place to look purposefully unkempt. "You'll see. Someday, you will buy a home in Hawaii with a lanai porch, and have all the time in the world to sit upon said porch, looking back on a life of reward and adventure. And you'll be drinking the wonderful sangria that you've made, and commenting on the fashion choices of all who pass you by…"

With or without me.

Kaoru smiled, lowering his head against Kyouya's neck.

"That sounds absolutely, bloody brilliant, Kyouya-senpai. Just the sort of thing a Shadow King would dream up about the likes of me."

Kyouya nodded. "And I will be there too, with any luck. I will stop by to taste some of your sangria – with oranges."

Kaoru glanced up, a shy smile decorating his face.

"No. Strawberries. I'd make it with strawberries."

He puckered his lips, and made a move to cup Kyouya's chin, but Kyouya drew his face closer to his, and if there was a vase between them like in an illusion-trick photo, they would have squashed it. As their lips met, Kyouya let his fist unclench, and the lavender fell to the ground.

…

Later that day, Yuzuha called. Kyouya and Kaoru had just finished poking their noses into the obligatory designer shops and then into the Matisse museum, when Kyouya's phone rang just as they were buying train tickets back to Eze.

"Kyouya, dear?"

"Mrs. Hitachiin, yes."

Kyouya gestured to Kaoru to collect the change from the automated machine, which was taking its sweet time issuing their passes.

"Kyouya, dear, thank you so much for picking up. I've just been trying to get a hold of Hikaru, but he and Tamaki are in Indonesia, and I can't for the life of me get a hold of them -"

"No problem at all, Mrs. Hitachiin. We are just heading back to Eze. We took a daytrip to Nice and ended up staying the night, so we've got time."

"Oh, brilliant." Yuzuha's voice smiled. Much like Tamaki - as Kyouya had come to glean by that point in their acquaintance, Yuzuha did not much mind being interrupted, as she was always interrupting herself, and deemed it a natural part of communication.

"So anyway, I was thinking - and I hate to impose, but it's just a tiny favour -"

Kyouya listened as the ticket machine gave a beep, after much earnest urging from Kaoru and several ill-timed attempts to cancel the transaction.

Yuzuha's "tiny favour" ended up being a request to derail their journey by a day, and to make it to Paris for a re-unveiling of a classic perfume by the fashion house Guerlain. The creative director at the company was an alleged bosom-friend of hers, but an emergency prevented her from making the trip, and with Hikaru incommunicado and half-coherent when he could be reached meant that she had no choice but to trouble Kaoru.

The tickets purchased, Kyouya motioned Kaoru to follow him into the departure hall, phone pressed against his cheek. Inside, past the turn-styles, the train tracks lay between two marble-lined platforms, with tall arched windows on either side. The air was fresh and warm - a breeze pulling in through the window panels, and if not for the way the sun would splinter as it hit the glass, the hall might have been a pleasant enough place to sit and contemplate a journey or an impending reunion.

"Who knows, it might be a wonderful opportunity for him to meet Monsieur Lefevre," Yuzuha finished her tirade-dash-explanation. "After all, don't tell him this now, but I've been thinking -"

"That is all very admirable, Mrs. Hitachiin, and I'm almost certain Kaoru will agree," Kyouya replied in a diffident tone, rolling his shoulders as he watched Kaoru observing a young woman who had two young children in tow and was trying to control the tykes as they fought over a packet of Yan-yan. In this instance, he thought, it was like mother like son and no mistake. Kyouya knew that he ought to have been more livid at the idea of someone so blithely assuming they could restructure their plans - but he was not. He was only mildly vexed, and it was like sitting down to play the piano and finding out that a key set off the right hammer, but the string had gone mysteriously missing.

"He's right here, let me ask him -" Taking away the phone from his ear, Kyouya turned to Kaoru with a tepid expression. "Your mother's wondering if you are willing to cut your time here short, and to head to Paris for a perfume show tomorrow."

Kaoru shrugged. "Sure."

Kyouya gave a reflexive swallow, and covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

"You know, you don't have to, Kaoru. This is your vacation."

"That's okay, I don't mind." Kaoru gave a soft smile as he reached for the phone in Kyouya's hand. "Just as long as I can go to the beach one more time and say goodbye to Cecile and Rose and write in the guest book."

…

The next day a shadow of rain and fog saw them off from the train station in Nice. Kyouya had made the wise decision to take the TGV - or bullet-train - which would get them to Paris just as fast as an airplane, but with none of the time-consuming hassle of baggage checks, check-in lines, and planing and deplaning. In addition - as he did not hesitate to comment without taking his eyes off his phone - if trains from the self-same station had been good enough for the czar in 1912, then they were certainly good enough for Japanese vacationers a hundred years later.

All said and done, the journey was all of five hours. The gunpowder rainclouds followed them north, and Kaoru sat motionless with his nose against the glass, watching the rolling hills slip by dotted with sheep and horses. Japan had its own version of the TGV, the Shinkansen, but Kaoru's family hardly traveled in their home country anymore, so the speed felt unusual – faster than anything he had experienced on land, but certainly slower than he would have expected for 300 km per hour. The landscape was also typical of France, almost to the point of being a picture book: hedges and thickets marking the edges of estates - natural boundaries that had not changed for centuries, as well as a fieldstone farmhouse here and there. And then the countryside turned to city – and the Gare du Nord** welcomed them with its austere facade of wet granite. Paris, too, was much the same in its hieroglyphic adherence to convention: its arrivals hall was the darker, greyer, busier version of the one they'd seen in Nice, and the city itself was busy as well, yet somehow empty. Its boulevards glistened with the recent fall of rain and rainbows of gasoline, but aside from the long lines of cars, the place looked like it had suffered a nuclear winter.

(**North Train Station.)

"I guess everyone's in Nice." Kaoru shrugged at Kyouya as the latter stopped just outside the doors and pulled out a long sleeved hoodie from his bag, handing it to Kaoru. They began to feel the chill as soon as they stepped off the train, and as they emerged into the street, it became clear that the latitude change, however small, was not insignificant in practical terms.

Kaoru had agreed to a lunch with Maurice Lefevre, and the three of them were due to meet in a coffee shop on the Left Bank to "talk properly" before the gala that night. As such, Kyouya and Kaoru had just enough time to drop off their things at the hotel - a top-floor converted apartment in the heart of the first arrondissement – when it was time to set off again. The rain did not let up until the end of the drive, and the sun began to peek from the clouds only when they stepped out of the taxi. Kaoru looked up with enamoured eyes at the wrought-iron balconies of the Napoleonic houses, standing abreast like so many military men, and the air – in Kyouya's estimation – had been thoroughly washed clean by rain, and was a welcome change from Nice's turbidity.

"Willy Ehrhardt? Who on earth is that?" Kaoru mused with a doll-like grin, peering at a marble plaque that commemorated the "fall" of a man on that spot during World War II.

"Well, I would be able to tell you," Kyouya replied testily, stabbing his finger into his phone as if it was a hot iron poker and he the newest and most enthusiastic of Satan's henchmen. "If I could get some reception in this Godforsaken -"

Kaoru suppressed a chuckle.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, hooking his hands behind his back and rubbing the ball of his foot into the ground. "I guess the network provider's decided to take a vacation too, huh? It is France after all." He smiled. "Maybe we can find the place ourselves, though. The cab driver was kind of useless, but it can't be that hard, right?"

Kyouya nodded and pressed his lips into a line as he swiped a few more times - thankfully, his texts were available offline. Without his internet connection, he felt like his arm had been chopped off, and the most infuriating part was that he had had it in rural France, and in a tightly sealed metal compartment no less, but had lost it summarily upon setting foot in Paris.

And on top of that, despite Kaoru's optimism, the cafe where they were due to meet was hardly easy to find. The numbers on the houses were invariably miniscule and stamped on metal plaques, and were inconsistent in shape, font, color and consecutiveness. In addition, the houses were arranged in squadrons and ranks, but were so close together it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

"Kaoru, I am fairly sure it's not here -"

Kyouya called after his friend as the latter disappeared under an archway, convinced by dint of some more Frenchified logic than Kyouya could manage that the place was not on Boulevard Saint Michel but just off it, inside one of the courtyards. No longer afraid that Kaoru would take off and disappear, he was nonetheless stressed out, for he did not like to be late and rather preferred to be early. Still, the Breitling on his wrist was informing him that in ten minutes' time they would not have a prayer of being either, and he tried to console himself by interrogating why he was taking it so hard in the first place. After all, it was Kaoru's meeting, not his, and even if he didn't speak much French and Lefevre didn't speak much English -

He turned into the arch where Kaoru gone, and saw that the twin had stopped and was peering upward at what looked like a two-storied colonnade encircling the courtyard. There was a lawn spanning the space between - strikingly verdant for something one would find in the inner city - and on either end there was a line of benches, along with a modest fountain that had been turned off.

"Kaoru, this doesn't look right," Kyouya repeated, pulling at Kaoru's elbow, but the twin took a step forward, and into the shadow of the colonnade.

"I wonder what this place is…"

He looked up at the plaques adorning the wall.

"Alors, les jeunes hommes, j'peux vous aider?"

(**Young men, may I help you?)

"It's a school." Kaoru smiled at Kyouya, and hailed the man who had appeared at the other end of the hall. The man had grizzled hair and looked a bit like Hemingway, with grizzled temples, a driver's cap and a checkered shirt.

"I'm sorry, we don't mean to be rude," Kaoru quickly said in French, bowing out of habit with Kyouya following suit. "We were looking for a cafe, but this clearly isn't it, although…" He glanced around, pausing once again at the plaque on the wall. The slab featured a list of names that clearly belonged to distinguished alumni or benefactors, judging by the sheer number of "De's" and noble titles. "If you don't mind telling us, what kind of school is this?"

"Oh." The man gave a throaty laugh, casting a look over the visitors' just barely rain-stained loafers, Kyouya's Breitling, and their well-coiffed heads. "Only the school for the best and the brightest of the hexagon, but more accurately the richest," he replied – in French so Kyouya could only catch the gist. "Go here, they say, and the Grands Ecoles are like a vacation."

"So it's a school like Ouran." Kaoru nodded at Kyouya with an empathic smile.

Kyouya glanced around. The well-worn walls seemed to radiate a centuries-old cool, and he could not help but notice that the two-odd steps between the walkway and the path were literally concave from generations of feet.

"Are you two Japanese? Chinese? Thai?" The man's eyes ran curiously over Kyouya's face - for Kyouya was the more ethnic looking one.

"Japanese." Kaoru nodded, bowing once more for effect. "And we're really, really sorry -"

"Well, hah." The man's face softened. "I suppose if you've come all this way, there's no harm in letting you two have a look. Everyone's gone for the summer, and I'm just a groundskeeper, but I reckon I could do a little tour."

…

"You know, I kind of miss school," Kaoru said as the two of them were walking away from the Lycée Saint Germain des Prés**, as the school turned out to be named after the 6th-century abbey where it was first founded.

(**Unlike the other locations mentioned in this story, this school does not in fact exist, just as Ouran does not exist.)

"I'm sure you'll be able to get back to school in no time," replied Kyouya, adjusting his bag.

He was far less one edge now, although a small bit of current still ran through him. Lefevre's secretary had texted twenty minutes ago, when Kyouya had miraculously recovered his connection, to say that her boss was running late, and as a consequence, the two of them had seen the hall of curiosities along with the "Virgin's Staircase," as well as the entirety of the library, which had tall archlike windows and a layout in the shape of a cross. Indeed, the whole place, oaken and echoing, had had the air of a cathedral, but was far more enlightened and refined, as if the thoughts that had been thought there were that much higher and more profound than the prayers of unlettered generations.

"Yeah, it's funny," said Kaoru, pulling his shoulders in as a smattering of rain started up again. "There used to be a time when you couldn't drag me out of bed in the morning. But now I'm like a fifty year old man, reminiscing about the good parts."

Kyouya did not respond, and turned to spelunk into his bag, but when he emerged, he had an umbrella in his hand.


	14. The Hour of Blue

The gala affair that Yuzuha spoke about was a re-release of Guerlain's two iconic fragrances, L'Heure Bleue and Mitsouko, which had been conceived around WWI and symbolized the emotions that led up to the Great War, as well as those that lingered afterwards. L'Heure Bleue -- or "blue hour," was the twilight before the night, and Mitsouko was the stoic Japanese general's wife, who according to legend had a Western man for an admirer and had promised to be true to whomever came back from the war -- but neither did. It was Mitsouko's story that had made Lefevre insist that the Hitachiin connection be represented in at least in some way, and the reason why Kaoru ended up leaning against the wall at the closure of the ceremony, inspecting his nails just as Kyouya appeared behind with a champagne glass. 

"Well, I never thought I'd end up at something like this," he said matter-of-factly, brushing an imaginary piece of dust from his lapel. Translation -- Call the press: Kyouya Ootori feels out of place at a social gathering.

"I'm sorry." Kaoru gave a compassionate smile as he accepted the glass. “Maybe we should've said no after all."

"Nonsense." Kyouya leaned against the wall and followed the progress of a cocktail waiter with his eyes. "Though I have to say it was a shame to leave Rose and her breakfasts. The pain au chocolat at the hotel can't hold a candle."

"It is nice to get to represent the company, though," Kaoru mused, watching the champagne bubbles creep up the sides of the glass. "Even if it's only because Hikaru's off drinking somewhere…"

Kyouya resisted the urge to pat his shoulder, and adjusted his lapel instead.

"I wonder how many of them know." Kaoru smiled, gaze meandering languidly over the crowd.

"Know what?"

"That the perfume's a crock. L'heure bleue, anyway -- Mitsouko's okay."

"I'm sorry?"

"My estimate's about half. I'm no perfume expert" -- he set down the glass -- "But I think it smells nothing like the original. To be honest, they might as well have bottled toilet water and called it Guerlain."

"Oh." Kyouya ran his over the foxlike profile. "Well, I can't say I'm a perfume savant either, but that sounds fairly harsh. I thought it was pleasant enough scent, for what that's worth." 

He tried to think back to when he'd smelled the samples. Both were interesting: Mitsouko mossy and deep, L'Heure Bleue bracing and orange, with a bitter, almost medicinal streak. Beyond that, there was little he could say about either, which he chalked up to a dirty little secret: despite being known for impeccable style, when it came to matters of dress, he employed Occam's razor more often than not, and only ever took the path most traveled by.

"My mom's got some of the original L'Heure Bleue in her collection -- from 1970; she must've gotten it from her mother. I've smelled it. It's too bad." Kaoru shrugged. "I guess it can't be helped, though. They did their best, but the chemical composition of the soil is not the same, nor do the flowers smell the same. And they changed the regulations on what could be in perfume -- which is why they took the original one off the market in the first place."

"Huh. Is that so." Kyouya inspected his cuff, brushing off a piece of fiber that had attached itself.

"And the thing is" -- Kaoru glanced at the crowd, naked backs intermingled with black-silhouetted forms -- "Is that you might not know perfume, Kyouya, but most of the people here do. Otherwise they wouldn't have come. So it's kind of like the emperor's new clothes. Everyone knows it, but nobody wants to be the one to say it."

"Well, er," Kyouya adjusted with his corsage. "Could it be they appreciate the new release for what it is, and are aware of what you said but have adjusted their expectations?"

"Maybe. But I still think it's funny how much people like things on the power of suggestion alone. How much power there is in a name and a story."

"Well, you are right there. But I suppose that goes for many things in life."

"Yeah. Let's say you've got a budget brand of makeup -- if it doesn't work for you, you throw it into the trash and call it a waste. A Guerlain or a Hitachiin, however, is 'tempermental.' So you give it another chance. If it's a polish, you might invest in some nail polish thinner, or tell yourself you chipped it because you scrubbed your head way too hard. If it's a perfume, you play with spraying it on a little earlier in your routine, so it's not as overpowering, and only after you've exhausted your options do you wrap it up and put it on the shelf and grudgingly use it as a room spray." 

"Kaoru, don't tell me you're having a Holden Caulfield moment. It doesn't suit you."

"Oh, no, I'm not." Kaoru glanced up with a freckle-sided smile, propping himself up by the elbows on the molding that ran the perimeter of the room. "I'm actually pretty proud of what my family does. I mean, I happen to know that we use better materials than a budget firm, and quality craftspeople who get good money for what they do. I'm just saying. Hospital administration's probably a lot more straightforward. If a drug works, it works. If a doctor knows their stuff, they know their stuff."

The sides of Kyouya's mouth curled.

"You'd be surprised, actually."

"Oh. How so?"

"Well, hah." Kyouya took a step towards Kaoru and gently peeled his fingers from the glass. "May I?" 

Kaoru nodded.

"Well." Kyouya took a sip. "This obviously stays between you and me and our tight-knit little group of friends over he" -- he cast a quick glance over the cocktail party, "But Akito's got a part-time job investigating complaints in addition his studies. And let's just say a good deal of what we do is customer service in the purest sense. It's ultimately all about what the patient wants, and nine times out of ten what the patient wants has nothing to do with what is supported by scientific evidence."

“Oh?”

"One time, Akito had a 90-year-old woman come in, complaining that she had not gotten an MRI. And the fact of the matter was, she had a TIA, and Akito had a mind to say, 'look, ma'am, an MRI is a scarce resource. We've got a hundred new cases every day in teenagers and twenty-somethings with TBI's, and they all require MRI's stat --"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kaoru chuckled, pausing in his turn to peel the glass from his lover's fingers. “I'm afraid I'm going to need you to dial back the medical linguo. TBI? TIA? I'm not an Ootori, I don't imbibe these things with my mother's milk."

"Oh." Kyouya gave a good natured smile. "Traumatic Brain Injury and Transient Ischemic Attack. I'm sorry about that -- and stat means immediately, of course."

"That much I know. I watch a few doctor shows."

"Yes, well." Kyouya moved to reclaim the champagne glass. "The point is, a traumatic brain injury is something serious -- something you get in a car accident or by falling out of a window. A transient ischemic attack, on the other hand, is like a stroke, but nowhere near as bad. It can lead to a few neurological deficits, but those tend to resolve fairly quickly. At any rate, Akito told me he had a mind to tell her that she was lucky to be alive at her age, much less be in any condition to come in and ask for an MRI -- something I personally wouldn't have agreed with, but that's Akito. And yet there is solid scientific evidence that had shown that an MRI is not the best use of resources in her case -- but could he tell her that? I suppose maybe he could have, but then she never would have come back, and who knows what kind of marketing she would have dealt to her friends and family. So it is what it is: he had no choice but to give it to her, with profuse apologies." 

Kyouya took another sip, wreaking carnage on the wall-dwelling gas bubbles.

Kaoru nodded. 

"Yeah. I guess that makes sense. I mean, when it's your family, it can't be easy to hear things like 'oh, there's not enough evidence to support this as a good use of resources.' "

"Exactly right. And I suppose there are ways to say it in a more diplomatic manner, but the fact remains. More often than not, family will want everything done, even if it means mortgaging away their own lives. It's not rational, but it's human nature."

Kaoru leaned into his line of sight, smiling wryly.

"Hah, do I detect a Shadow King waxing humanist now?" 

Kyouya set down the glass and rolled his shoulders.

"Well, I suppose so -- why are you looking at me like that?"

Kaoru averted his eyes and fixed them on the wall. 

"No reason. It just suits you, that's all."

…

They had gotten back from the ball -- early, in all the estimation of those who had said goodbye -- and aside from the orange light coming from the faux lanterns perched around the room, the apartment lay shrouded in shadow. It may have the complete sound isolation from the boulevard below, or the too-large furniture, but from the start, Kyouya had noticed an almost medieval stillness to the place, and the impression only grew stronger when they cracked open the door and got the distinct feeling that nothing had happened in that room for over a hundred years.

Kaoru was standing before the mirror of the large chestnut wardrobe, inspecting his crisp-cuffed, cream-colored shirt as if in no hurry to take it off. The twin, amber-encrusted cufflinks accentuated his wrists, and as he turned to the side to inspect his face, Kyouya came up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Kaoru."

Kaoru smiled, dimple fluttering on the side of his mouth.

"Kyouya."

Kyouya kissed him on the neck and curled his toes into the mohair carpet, gently peeling away the collar to reveal a whiter flesh.

For the last few hours, he had been feeling on edge, and the excessive number of sips he had taken from his flute had done nothing to quell it. He could not put his finger on it, but the way Kaoru looked now -- the way he looked at the world, from the moment they set foot in Paris -- was so far away, that if he didn't know better, Kyouya would have thought that the twin was in love, and not with him or with Hikaru, but with something more esoteric. In any case, it made the hair on his arms stand on end, and had made him take more sips than he ever would have allowed himself.

"Let's make love," Kyouya whispered into crevice between clavicle and shoulder, smooth and concave as a seashell. "I'm tired of fucking you with my mind. I want to be with you." 

The porcelain crevice blushed pink and a shiver ran over Kaoru's shoulder. 

"Hah. What's brought this on?"

"Mm, I don't know." Kyouya hooked his finger on a button that was still done up, gently easing it out of its hole. "Lefevre, I think."

"Lefevre?"

"Yes." Kyouya slid his fingers down, gently caressing a sliver of skin before moving on to the next button. "He looked like he made love to your mother twenty years ago, and was looking for a repeat performance with you as her understudy. Don't ask me why. I just know."

It was, strictly speaking, true -- Lefevre had asked them to lunch and devoured Kaoru with his eyes – but if only a mortal man was the extent of his troubles...

"Ugh. How vile." Kaoru chuckled.

Kyouya kissed the new bit skin that had come into view, forcing the irritating current to abate a bit. He let out a sigh, like a smoker drawing his first puff of the day, and proceeded to kiss the innocent angle between the traps and neck, licking his lip to make the moistness linger.

"He did. And I think he must have known that we hadn't done the deed yet, though we were more than friends." His fingers tightened over the textured cloth, and the next button came undone quicker. "That's why I thought I should stake my claim."

"Heh."

"And then again," Kyouya went on, pushing aside the shirt as he continued with the buttons, "We've been sharing a bed for more than a week now. A man can only wait so long."

The last button undone, he glanced up, his pupils visibly blown and on display. All the while, he had made his voice sound more urbane than it was, his movements those of a smooth, practiced Casanova. It was a disguise -- like most things he did -- but that night he knew he would need it.

Kaoru inhaled, and Kyouya felt a flutter of his heart under his fingers.

"Well, which one is it going to be?” Kaoru smiled. “Love or fuck? You can't do both."

Kyouya smiled and hooked his fingers behind Kaoru's belt. 

"Well," he said slowly, making sure his eyes were boring a hole in that ridiculous, delicate, effortlessly handsome and rarified being that stood before him. "Normally I like to choose my words carefully at a time like this, but I suppose I'll take whichever one makes your eyes drift shut and your head tilt back, and your mouth open up in slow motion."

Kaoru looked like he might have said something, but merely opened his mouth, rosy lips catching the glow of the lampshade. Kyouya noticed that the back of Kaoru's collar smelled like talcum powder, and heard the tiny hands of the Breitling measuring time.

"Kyouya?" 

"Yes, Kaoru?"

"I love you."

"Oh, good. I'm glad we understand each other." Kyouya smiled wistfully, and slid his hands down the supple torso. "I love you too, if it comes to that."

Gently, he turned Kaoru around, and Kaoru let himself get folded into his lover's arms. Kyouya drew him closer until every inch of their bodies touched, and then pressed a kiss to a warm, marble-veined neck, just where the hairline dissolved into whorls.

"If you don't like something, lavender rule still stands," he whispered in Kaoru's ear, and Kaoru smiled against his cheek. They did not speak again as Kyouya nudged him slowly to the side of the bed, and proceeded to kiss down his lover's neck, sucking and releasing just shy of leaving a mark.

"Hm. I wonder if he did sleep with my mother..." 

Kyouya furrowed his brow as he lowered himself to his knees.

"I wouldn't think about that right now."

"No, I mean, it's possible…"

"Well, anything is possible --"

"Our family's not like others, you know." 

"Well, yes, I suppose.” Kyouya reached for the best. “No family is the same, though -- at least not unhappy families. That's a truth that goes back to Tolstoy." 

Kyouya paused -- his tone was admittedly more flat than he would have liked, and more terse the situation warranted. The belt undone with a clink, he gently eased his hands under Kaoru's waistband, supporting the small of the back as he began to peel off the pants. Kaoru was neither resisting nor abetting his movements, but sat perfectly still, smiling at the air in front of him. 

"Besides, it's not as if you're ever likely to know, are you?" 

The whole thing felt like undressing a doll, though perhaps that was apt. Kyouya felt a flutter of uneasiness as he slid the pants down Kaoru's slender thighs.

"Yeah. I guess not. But still. I wonder sometimes. About my dad. I mean, if Hikaru and I are…"

He glanced down at his knees, and Kyouya pressed a kiss to a pale upper thigh, pulling himself up to sit on the bed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you saying what I think you are saying?" 

Kaoru shrugged, and Kyouya moved to push down his shirt, revealing a shoulder like a full moon over a darkening bay.

"I mean, it's possible." Kaoru glanced down at his hands. "Our mother travels a lot, and we're not exactly the typical family. My mom is the head of the family, and my dad is an adopted son-in-law. He took her name and all, and he doesn't pull much weight, but more than that he's retreated into himself a lot over the years. I kind of feel bad for him."

"Oh." Kyouya leaned over and pressed a kiss onto the exposed shoulder. "I see. But that alone is no reason to suppose you aren't his sons, or your parents weren't once happy." 

He slid the other side of the shirt down, letting his hand linger on against the creamy-smooth flesh. Kaoru's chest was fully revealed now -- two low, oblong mounds studded with deep-pink nipples -- and the younger boy was well aware of it, blush creeping slowly over his ears. 

"Balance of probability. Your mother is an -- unconventional woman, let's just say that, and I can see how that that may put a strain on a marriage. But in the same vein, I don't think she would have married someone who was indifferent to her, at least to start…"

Well aware of how ineffectual his words sounded, he reached to ease the shirt down Kaoru's upper arms.

"Yeah. I know. But I still think, what if – you know?"

Kyouya leaned into the shoulder nearest him, and brushed his lips against the skin, wondering what it must have been like to be inside it. Sure, he had always known the Hitachiins to be "unconventional," with Yuzuha the only mother in their social circle who was not devoted to children, home, and charity galas from the day she got married. More than that, she was also like a man in that she mixed freely with men, and despite her "dearests " and "darlings," she was sure to be a force to be reckoned with in the boardroom, for she would not have have built up the company she did from a silk and leather manufacturing concern otherwise. Still, as someone who had never had any doubt as to his own parentage -- for he was the spitting image of his father down to the way he held his hands when he was irritated or bored -- he had never had the occasion to imagine what it might be like to feel as if there was another, more deeply entrenched reason why he and his father did not get along. And yet when he had had met the Hitachiins, he could not help but notice that the twins had indeed inherited their mother's eyes and the area around them -- the bridge of the nose, the sockets, and the brows – almost without change, whereas their resemblance to their father was equivocal. Now that he was reminded of that fact, another book he had read came to mind -- about the kings of medieval France -- and how, whenever their children were illegitimate, their appearance invariably gave them away UNLESS the certainty of their parentage was what was needed to secure the fate of a kingdom. 

"What makes you worry about it now?" – Kyouya finally settled on what he felt like a fairly democratic question, tracing Kaoru's shoulder with the edge of his knuckle. 

"I don't know." Kaoru shrugged. "I guess it's because I've been thinking a lot about where I belong. Early on, it felt like it was just Hikaru and me, and I can't help but think there must be a reason for it... Why we ended up that way, and why we never felt as close to our family as we should have."

Kyouya slid the shirt further down, and unsure of how else to console him, leaned over and kissed the upper arm, reaching for a hand to gently turn over to fiddle with the cufflink. 

"I think you shouldn't be so quick to assume that other families are happy, or that things 'should' be a certain way," he commented, reaching for Kaoru's wrist inside the sleeve. "I'm sure even the short amount of time you're spent in my house has shown you that we aren't what we seem either."

Kaoru nodded. 

"I know. I'm just scared, is all."

"Scared of what, exactly?" Kyouya let his lover hook his fingers over his hand, and raised it to his lips, pressing his lips against the knuckles.

"I'm not sure. I guess I just don't really know what it means to have a functional relationship. I haven't grown up with one as an example, and I guess you haven't either." He shrugged again, his smile wan in the amber light. "I'm guess I'm scared I will get everything wrong, and do everything for the wrong reasons."

"Shh." Kyouya eased the other cufflink off, and pulled the sleeve toward him, freeing Kaoru of his shirt. He paused to look at his work, and though he had seen it all before -- on the beach and in the cloistered space of Rose's home, it was never like this, and strangely enough, for the first time in his life he was able to look at Kaoru's body directly whereas Kaoru himself – having always been aware of what his body could do – was looking away in an almost reticent manner, as if waiting for Kyouya to make the first move. 

"There's no need to worry about that." Kyouya reached for the base of Kaoru's spine, and eased him down by the shoulders. "Life isn't a final draft." He slipped his hand under the waistband of theother's boxers, and slid them right off. Taking Kaoru's knee and bringing it back, he was just about to reach for the bedside table when he felt a hand on his wrist.

"Wait, no -- not like this" --

Kyouya stopped. He had been growing hard in his pants, but that was of no consequence. By dint of spending so much time around Kaoru, what had once been a source of hollow pain was now only a matter of flipping up a certain something and tucking it into his waistband.

Kaoru sat up and pulled away, reaching for the bedside drawer himself. He extracted the packed of condoms and the ill-fated bottle lube from "Le Bloc," and motioned Kyouya to take off his undershirt. Kyouya's torso, a little yellower and just as smooth in a barely muscled, bishuonen way came into view, and Kaoru smiled and nodded at his pants, turning his attention to the condom packet. 

"Like this," he said, shifting closer and working on the latex condom and a drop or two of oil before glancing into Kyouya's eyes. He then took his lover by the shoulders, and positioned himself over his hips, and began to lower himself down. Once he progressed more than halfway, it was all Kyouya could do to keep his head from bucking back.

Warm, tight, enveloping -- lightyears better than a hand or even a mouth… Indeed that was the elephant in the room. Kyouya did not like others to have the upper hand, and to be the one with less experience under his belt. As a consequence, he had gone out of his way to look more stoic and more confident than he felt, and yet now he could barely contain himself, as if he was the greenest of schoolboys. 

"It's okay, don't be afraid to let it show" -- Kaoru stroked the side of his face and placed a nibbling kiss on his lips. Now that he was down all the way and they were eye to eye, he seemed far more engaged, and there was a childlike sparkle in his eye, as if he he had spotted someone he had not seen in a long time, and missed. "Feels good, right?"

Kyouya took a spasmodic breath and nodded. His face was raring to form expressions which his muscles barely knew, and the warmth and tightness spreading from his groin to his hips and thighs was coming thicker, in rolling waves. Suddenly, his skin felt very bare against the air of the room, and he swallowed, audibly, as he felt Kaoru's fingers on his chin, his other arm still draped around his shoulders.

"Don't be so stoic." Kaoru smiled with his voice, his fingernails digging gently into his back. "The secret's out -- so relax. Everyone's got to start somewhere -- even the Shadow King."

But Kyouya could not relax. Here he was -- not only nude but as close to another human being as anyone could get, and that's human being's limbs were draped around him and over him – in fact were all around him, and there was nowhere he could run or hide. The ache in his muscles was growing stronger by the moment, and it was all he could do not to push Kaoru violently back against the headboard, and start pounding him into the mattress for all he was worth.

He took in a chestful of air, feeling like he it was entering his lungs through a straw, and nodded -- meaning to convey, at least in general terms, that what Kaoru wanted was not likely to happen in this lifetime. Kaoru understood and smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around him, and began to move, slowly at first, then faster, lips finding Kyouya's in their turn. The fire down below kindled with surprising rapidity, and Kyouya let his eyes drift shut. He may have been the "top," but it seemed like Kaoru was set to do the driving, which under the circumstances he could abide. After all, it was better to reign himself in than to spend the rest of his life regretting it, and his only complaint was that given his inexperience, the pleasure had come to a head far too quickly, and soon enough he was unable to even stay the moans in throat. Kaoru noticed, and responded with a slowing of his pace, which he had been keeping up masterfully, working with his whole torso and his inner thighs. He had also pulled Kyouya close against him, so the two were nearly molded together, and pulled his lips away from his mouth long enough to suck in a mouthful neck. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, though, before Kyouya began to feel the enemy at the gates again.

He gritted his teeth and reached down – hoping to try something that he had no way of knowing would work – but it did. The pressure abated a bit as he pinched, and he did it a second time just for good measure, nodding to Kaoru as he ran his hands up and down his thighs to let him know that he could move faster again.

"Oh, good." Kaoru looked up from romancing his neck – a trace of mischief in his smile. "And here I thought we'd be done before we even started…"

Kyouya did not dignify the statement with a response, instead slipping on his Shadow King mask. He then proceeded to cup Kaoru's chin as the other was about to kiss back, boldly claiming the territory in his mouth, and nudged Kaoru backwards. Kaoru understood, and let himself be lowered onto his back, among the downy pillows. Kyouya then repositioned himself between his legs, suppressing a deep, primal urge to enter him as fast as he could, and leaned in for another kiss, cupping Kaoru's chest. Kaoru's thoughts, once again, were right in step, and as he settled back against the headboard, his hair framing his face, he took his legs behind the knees and pulled. The move made it easy for Kyouya to do what needed to be done, and his flesh ended up entering Kaoru softly, just as it had the first time.


	15. Noir

When Kyouya and Kaoru returned to Japan, the tail-end of the rainy season was just passing the country by, and the better part of the humidity had subsided as well. Kyouya returned to school, and Kaoru did not, and as the days continued to melt into August's balmy warmth, he continued to check in at the clinic and to follow through with his tutors. After their respective days were done, Kyouya and Kaoru made a point of spending a little time together. The Host Club was still in operation, but with a truncated cast -- for Hikaru had refused to return without his brother, and Kyouya now saw him less and less. The rest of the club members did not seem to question it, and instead deferred to Kyouya's judgment and his affidavit that he would soon remedy the situation, in his own time, and in his own way. 

Of course, the truth was, Kyouya had no plan -- no plan rooted in any concept of time, anyway. Aside from the conviction that somehow, some way he would stage a reconciliation… But here he and Yuzuha were of the same mind, so he couldn't take credit for the idea. Besides, he was in no hurry. He vaguely knew that Hikaru had become chopped liver -- and, quite frankly, he could not bring himself to care. If Kaoru would have cared, it would have been a different story, for every time Kaoru expressed the desire to have Sunday brunch with his mother -- a new development since they'd gotten back from France -- the voice of Yuzuha would sound sweeter to Kyouya over the phone, and he would find himself exchanging pleasantries with her a little longer. But on the topic of Hikaru, Kaoru said not a word, no matter how hard Kyouya tried to pry -- and selfishly enough, he took it to be a good sign. For he had gotten used to Kaoru's delicate form beautifully triangulated within his arms, and to the added bit of warmth under his covers. Normally, Kyouya was far from cheerful in the morning, and it grew harder still to pry himself from bed as the days grew shorter and the mornings cooler. But bit by bit the prospect of seeing Kaoru, folded into a veritable Mt. Kilimanjaro of blankets, smiling and blinking up at the sunlight like a large orange cat, waiting for him to wake, had made his eyes a little less averse to opening every morning. He would see Kaoru, and he would stretch out his arms, and tuck the slender form into his, and then hold on, breathing in the powdery softness. The rise and fall of his chest and the beating of his heart were the only things keeping him back from the abyss, and the feel of Kaoru would charge him up with energy he had been so sorely needing.

They slept together more often now, because the staff never came into Kyouya's wing unless he was not home. Initially, Kyouya had left it up to Kaoru, but had been pleasantly surprised when the twin began to climb into his bed as soon as they had arrived. The samples of L'Heure Bleue and the various lavender-stuffed pincushions still lived on Kaoru's bedside table, along with "Si Tu Savais," the lemon-scented bubble that Kyouya had bought for him in Eze. That was the lovely thing about Kaoru -- and something Kyouya surely would have included in a book entitled "The Care and Keeping of the Younger Hitachiin Twin." Some things warranted no discussion with Kaoru; he simply did them or did not. If one reacted well, he continued, and if one reacted poorly, he stopped without further comment. For that reason alone, Kyouya liked to let him take the lead in all things concerning his own well-being, and yet he had also discovered something about himself: namely, that once an understanding had been reached, he envisioned making love every day. In fact, he had slipped surprisingly quickly into a routine where he would get up from his desk, having finished with his homework for the day, and come over to where Kaoru was, usually kneeling by the low coffee table and doing his work as well. First he would slide Kaoru's hoodie from his shoulders -- the exact size and shape of a department store mannequin -- then he would kiss the strawberry-shaped birthmark halfway up his neck, and at that point he could expect Kaoru to either arch his neck and open his mouth just a bit, or place a hand on Kyouya's, signaling that now was not the time for that sort of thing. So in that respect, quite aside from his tendency to keep his thoughts under lock and key, Kaoru was very predictable, and that purveyed a certain sense of calm to the time they now spent together. Indeed, time flowed a little differently when they were in the same room: before, Kyouya's days had been very well regimented, but now -- though objectively nothing had changed, and his life was still ruled by deadline -- he felt a bit more comfortable turning off his phone, and taking a little longer on things whenever they particularly interested him.

One day, Kyouya found Kaoru leafing through a large view-book of the castles of the Loire, sitting Japanese-style by the glass-topped coffee table in the foyer. The sunlight was slanting in soft and pearly flows through the wall of glass, and Kaoru looked up at Kyouya with his bedroom eyes and his beachside grin.

"Well, Kyouya-senpai, how shall we celebrate Friday?" he asked, closing his book with a flutter of green, glossy pages.

Kyouya was about to jump on the question as a gateway to reconciliation proposition -- for, on the whole, although he was enjoying his new predicament, he knew it could not last forever and it was larely on him to come up with a resolution. Still, it appeared as if Kaoru's question had been less concrete or even rhetorical, and more a preface to something he had already designed.

"It seems that _you_ want to tell _me_." Kyouya lowered his schoolbag to the floor -- which contained a heavy novel he was to read over the weekend, along with an even heavier load of calculus problems. 

Kaoru grinned. "That's right! If you don't have any objections, there's a place I'd like to take you."

"Al... right." Kyouya lowered himself to the couch, just behind Kaoru, and ran his palms up and down the other's back.

It was times like this that he thought Kaoru was almost well, and back to his old, innocently mischievous self -- with his eyes and the sides of his mouth playfully dancing.

"No hints?"

"Nope." Kaoru shook his head, and glanced around. "Alright, maybe one. Where we're going, you'll need lots and lots of allergy medicine. In fact, take all the precautions you can, and bring some breakthrough treatments, just in case."

"Oh."

Truth be told, Kyouya had not had a flare of his allergies in quite some time -- and even France had not proven as irritating as he anticipated. He had packed his arsenal of shot syringes, inhalers, and a whole array of pills, but on the whole, he was still impressed that despite essentially living outside in Rose's pension, his eyes had begun to water only once or twice. 

"Alright. Speaking of allergies, I do believe it's time for my weekly allergy shot. Why don't I do that before we leave -- then I will truly be protected."

Kaoru watched him get up, golden eyes following to the stair-steps to the bedroom. The allergies were still a sensitive subject for both of them, for the lavender field incident was still the byword in Kyouya mind for suffocation and pain and places in his mind that were about as comfortable as a bed of razorblades. Still, he did not like to hide things from the twin -- or more specifically, he did not like to hide things now that they had an understanding. So he informed Kaoru regularly of his precautions, and Kaoru had initially been worried that Kyouya administered the shots all by himself, but in the end seemed to accept it.

But something was different this time. Kyouya glanced around at the foot of the stairs, having gotten the distinct sensation that Kaoru's eyes were boring into his back.

"Uh, can I… watch you do it?"

"Why… Uh. Of course, Kaoru."

Kyouya tented his eyebrows and studied the boy. Kaoru had an expression like Kyouya was about to undergo a procedure where the surgeons were to be digging around in his brain, without anesthesia.

"It's just a shot, though. I don't see what's so fascinating about it."

Kaoru rocked himself to his feet, crossing the living room in what seemed like two steps, and placed a hand on Kyouya's forearm.

"You know I told you I've been doing it myself for months, there's no need to worry."

"I know" -- Kaoru nodded. "I just want to see how you do it."

Kyouya smiled. "You want to see yet another part of my life -- a private part?"

Kaoru nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. That's a good way of putting it."

"Alright, come on then." Kyouya nodded in turn, with a slightly wider smile. Sometimes, he felt like a psychiatrist in charge of a manic patient, who at the height of his mania liked to reach out in unexpected and bizarre ways. For Kaoru's mind -- though very keen and no doubt introspective, was still in many ways a black box, and he liked to hone in on things that Kyouya would have never found significant.

Kaoru nodded again, and as he walked in front of him, Kyouya noticed the peach-fuzz at the nape of his neck stand on end, and the skin of his slightly exposed shoulders turning a light pink.

In the upstairs bathroom, Kaoru watched Kyouya take off his shirt -- leaving behind a white cotton wife-beater. He then ripped open a package with an alcohol pad, and the smell of an infirmary filled the air, vanishing just as quickly as he rubbed his deltoid with the square and flicked it away. He then peeled away the packaging from the syringe -- a deft, practiced motion -- and lay it down beside the bandage he had prepared along with a cotton pad. Kaoru leaned against the wall with a slight movement of his Adam's apple, eyes tracking Kyouya's movements with an apprehensive keenness. Unsurprisingly, the sounds of the rustling plastic were amplified by the tiles, and Kyouya glanced at Kaoru as he reached a break in his task.

"Kaoru, this isn't just some ploy to make yourself faint and have me rescue you because of a fear of needles, is it?" He gave a dry chuckle and another pointed glance over his glasses, then pulled the syringe from it packaging. He gave the plunger a small nudge, and peered at the drops of liquid dribbling from its end.

"No, not at all." Kaoru stared at the needle with abiding fascination. Kyouya, for his part, did not particularly like needles, but it was one of the many ritualistic ways he liked to prove that he could in fact practice the family business.

The needle was a tiny sliver against the pearlescent lights, and looking at it made Kyouya feel like he had nerves in the tips of his teeth. He took a barely audible breath and pressed his tongue into his incisors, then reached across to his side, bracing himself against the counter with his "victim" arm. He began to ease the tip under the skin, suppressing a wince, and once that part of the operation was done, he paused, and noticed that Kaoru seemed to have magically transferred himself -- quite noiselessly -- across the tiles, and was now standing inches away.

Kyouya raised his eyebrows.

"Almost finished," he said, pressing his tongue harder against his teeth. That still felt covered in sand -- and try as he might, he could not get rid of it.

"Can I… do it?"

"You?"

Kaoru nodded. "I want to help finish it off."

"Oh. Alright." Kyouya blinked. "That -- that's fine."

All that remained, granted, was to press down the plunger. The hardest part was to break the skin and get at the right depth -- and yet his nod was still uncertain as he gestured for Kaoru to take the plunger.

"Just -- yes, just like that." Kaoru had stretched out his hands, fingers brushing lightly against his own as he grasped the plastic head, and Kyouya readjusted them ever-so-slightly. As he let go of the plastic, he felt an unbearable lightness and was nearly forced to step back, but Kaoru placed a warm hand on his waist, and drew him closer.

"That's it" -- Kyouya let his eyes drift shut and tried to compose his breath, which was feeling like it was coming through a gauze. "Just press. Don't let your hands shake too much -- it'll move the needle, and we want to avoid that."

Kyouya's voice was gentle, quiet, almost tremulous… He was surprised at himself, and yet once Kaoru had gotten the needle in hand, he let it go and gripped the marble countertop, feeling strangely like it was just the two of them -- the air between them, the needle, Kaoru's breath -- that was their world. He felt the middle of his chest start to percolate, as if something was rising inside it -- and Kaoru's breath, the breath of his skin and pores, was starting to fill his lungs and his nostrils. He felt a push -- Kaoru had pushed, his hold tightening on his waist at the same time, even as they both expelled a breath. Kyouya opened his eyes to check that the needle was still in place, and sure enough, a smooth, solid hive had formed where the medication had pooled under his skin, and Kaoru's face was glowy and warm, like that of a young mother waiting for her baby to open its eyes.

Kyouya closed his eyes and breathed out once more. He then opened them again, and reached, with a mildly shaking hand, to pick up the piece of absorbent gauze, pressing it over the end of the needly.

He nodded. "Alright, now pull out. Carefully."

Kaoru obeyed, and Kyouya felt a slight yank. The needle emerged, tip reddened with blood, and Kyouya motioned for Kaoru to put it down on the tray.

"Now, the bandage. Open it up, please?"

Kaoru obeyed once more, his breath a light wheeze, and placed the adhesive over the gauze. Before, his hands had been perfectly steady, but now Kyouya could detect a light tremor, and the bandage carefully attached, he snapped out of slow motion and threw his hands around Kaoru's waist. Kaoru responded by placing his head on the crook of his shoulder, and whispered something into Kyouya's skin. Kyouya heard, and replied that he felt the same.

…

"Kaoru, what is the meaning of this?" 

Kyouya peered up at the sign, which displayed cute pictures of smiling and waving cats, as well as a pair of steaming coffee cups. They were in a part of town where the upper crust did not usually go -- the busy heart of a shopping district with several multi-tiered malls, myriad casual eateries, and at least five Pachinko slot arcades in a two-block radius. Evening was falling, and the winking, rolling marquees of the neon signs, many multiple stories high, were swelling and ebbing against the wall of rapidly darkening sky. They had ended up making love on the bathroom floor like Kyouya's manhood was the only thing that could save Kaoru from a nervous breakdown, and they arrived much later than they had intended. In fact, it was nearing the second rush hour of the evening, and streams of salarymen, prim-suited women, students, and other commuters flowed neatly around them on the sidewalk.

"It's a cat cafe!" Kaoru beamed, arms akimbo and knuckles digging into his sides. It was hard to hear each other over the noise of the crowd, so his heightened tone was just the thing. "It's like a host club, but with cats! When commoners can't afford a pet -- or don't have enough room at home to keep it, they like to come to places like these, where you pay money and get to hang out with cats for only 1000 yen** per hour!"

(**about $10)

"Hmph." Kyouya placed a finger against his chin, eyeing the list of services posted in the window. There was a carpet-covered, multi-storied "tree" of ledges and bungalows in the window as well, and there were felines in multiple colors and forms dozing here and there -- though for the most part the tree was empty, the "hosts" likely entertaining their guests inside. "Well, it's a fine idea, but as any cat owner can tell you, you cannot make a cat host any more than you can make it do tricks or chase after a rabbit down a track."

Kaoru shrugged, his smile widening to his earlobes. "It's not a perfect metaphor."

"Well." Kyouya continued to look at the display, his legs pressed stoically together and his elbows at his sides. "I must say, they do capitalize on variety, just like we do -- so that much we have in common." The selection was not fully visible from the window in the flesh, but the ledger boasted at least twelve different breeds of cats, from the ever-kawaii Scottish fold, to a Cornish rex, to a garden-variety Japanese bobtail, a Russian blue and a seal-point Birman. He glanced over at Kaoru, raising an eyebrow. "That said, why exactly did you think I would enjoy visiting a place like this?"

It was Kaoru's turn to feign surprise -- though it may have been genuine.

"Oh, well, it's pretty obvious. At least to me."

"Oh. Pray tell, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Kyouya turned his eyes back to the vitrine, fixing his gaze on a long-bodied Maine Coon that had just uncoiled itself from where it lay, and was arching its back with its tail aloft and its jaw unhinged in a lazy yawn.

"Well, for one thing, your phone background. And your desktop background --"

"A choice of background hardly means much."

"Yes, I would agree." Kaoru straightened his back, digging his fists further into his sides. "After all, they could have just been stock backgrounds, and it could just be a coincident. But the cat-embossment, ever so discrete in the corner of your pen case, is less likely, and besides -- you have a scrolling loop of backgrounds, all cats, and some of the photos have watermarks -- not to mention they're different styles, so they must be photos you've found yourself."

"Heh. Well. Touche -- perhaps." The Maine Coon had leaped onto a high parapet, and, with a flurry of tail, disappeared into a bungalow facing the inside of the shop. The inside was brightly lit, and paneled with blonde wood and looking overall like a bright, warm, golden oven. "But all that's circumstantial evidence at best: I may just be an aesthetic appreciator of cats. An armchair conoisseur, as it were. Like the protagonist in _Snow Country_ who loved ballet but his vision of it was too perfect to ruin with an authentic experience --" 

Kaoru shrugged. "I went on your computer that one time, remember? When you had me look a phone number? I saw a folder called "breeders" and another one called "rescues."" The smiled disappeared from his face. "You want a cat -- but perhaps you're not sure if your allergies are under control yet, or maybe you're not allowed to have a pet and are trying to build your case." He ground his foot into the sidewalk, as if he was snuffing out a cigarette. "In either case, I thought this might be helpful. To start getting yourself habituated, maybe."

Kyouya tore his eyes away from the glass, and when he looked at Kaoru, he could only hope that they weren't glistening.

In fact, both things he'd said were true: Kyouya's allergies were still not under control, not absolutely, and his father was not fond of animals. Still, he was going to graduate from high school soon, and when he got a place of his own he had resolved to get a cat. But there was still a long way to go, and what Kaoru did not know was that Kyouya was already an avid frequenter of cat cafes. Like Kaoru had said, he needed to build his tolerance, and to gain experience with the animals. Cats, he had always thought, were very beautiful and noble, and reminded him a bit of Kaoru with his grace, silence, and poise. It has been a week or more since he had been to a pet cafe -- for oddly enough, once he had acquired Kaoru he had been dedicating a little less time to his feline friends. But the particular cat cafe that Kaoru had brought him to was one he had been to before -- though there was another one was used to frequenting more often, on account of its closer proximity to Ouran.

Kyouya smiled and took a step toward Kaoru, wrapping the slender boy into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Kaoru. This is very… thoughtful of you. You have always been quite observant, though, so I cannot say thatI am surprised." His lips curled slightly at the irony of his last words, and he pressed a kiss onto Kaoru's ear.

Kaoru pulled away and took his hand, running his thumb over the side of his finger."Well, only the best for my sleepy-headed senpai," he said with a smile. "I know cats can be very therapeutic -- we get to have pet therapy at the hospital once in a while, and I thought it was about time I made things more of a two way street."

…

"Kyouya, you shameless SNAKE!"

Kaoru was curled up in a large olive beanbag chair, with a majestic, orange specimen of a Persian cat draped over his torso. The cat's short nasal passages made a light wheezing noise as it breathed.

Kyouya sat primly on the floor, legs folded, stroking the stomach of a seal-pointed Birman that appeared to be the Tamaki of the place. Not only was he the friendliest of the group, but also in possession of a muzzle that had been stamped on every piece of promotional material, and had rolled onto his back, his face the picture of perfect bliss as he purred to beat a Harley Davidson.

"Here are your drinks, Mr. Ootori" -- the girl from the reception desk had appeared with a tray and glasses, and gave a prim-faced bow with a bob of her ponytail. "I hope everything is to your liking."

Indeed, what Kyouya had been hoping to avoid had happened, and as luck would have it, not only was it the same woman behind the counter as the last time, but she had also recognized him, and while at any other time Kyouya might have agreed that conscientious memorization of all the clients' faces was an admirable business practice, on this particular day he was less than pleased. He had played the incident off in his usual, unpretentious style, but Kaoru's dismay was palpable, and tongue in cheek though his comment was, Kyouya could not help but feel like he had failed him. He had played his role so well -- had succeeded in making Kaoru feel so good, and if not for the bright-eye being across the counter, the grand illusion would never have been shattered.

Still, there was a comforting shade of irony to Kaoru's rebuke, and the whole place was just as Kyouya remembered it: beige and green and rather like a nursery, with mobiles hanging from the ceiling, and ergonomic, blonde-wood furniture beset by at least a dozen cats of all different breeds. A glockenspiel arrangement of Mozart's lullabies was playing in the background, and the carpet on the floor was warm -- as if it was heated from below.

Kaoru proceeded to glare, in mock-contempt, for a few more moments -- and then got up, gathering the phlegmatic, five-kilogram fur ball into his arms. He took a seat by Kyouya on the floor, letting his head rest briefly on the other's shoulder before the receptionist or the other customers could catch sight of them.

"Well, you know, I'm still very thankful for you, Kyouya… Even though you _are_ a slippery twat." His hand ghosted over Kyouya's thigh, deftly covered by the Persian's tail. "And I'm also thankful for the 20 cm** you're packing in those uniform pants."

(**about 8 in.)

"Kaoru, the cats…"

Granted, the two of them were facing away from the place where a rotund, 20-something woman was rolling around with the Maine Coon, and where two girls were huddling in the corner, apparently fresh from the cram school classes and excitedly torturing a tabby and a British shorthair. But by now, it was difficult to tell where Kyouya ended and Kaoru began, and Kaoru's presence by his side was enough to make him grow stiff no matter the setting.

Kaoru smiled and took his hand away.

"I know. I just like to see you flustered."

"I know you do. And I'm only happy to oblige."

Kaoru drew away, gifting Kyouya with another golden-eyed caress as he returned to his seat.

"Well, in the parlance of our times, I suppose I did mess with you a little" -- Kyouya said after a moment, straightening his glasses. At that point, it was either speak or let himself be damned, for a pulsating energy was quickly gathering inside his pants. "After all, I do have a reputation to maintain. It cannot be known that I have a weakness for something like cats -- can you imagine what would happen? And that is why, _as you may have also noticed_, I pause my desktop at a neutral, solid color whenever I'm at school."

"But it _can_ be known that you have a weakness for me, huh?" Kaoru pushed the Persian up on his stomach, standing it up on its back paws. The animal gave a displeased mewl, but seemed to decide it was not worth the fight.

"That was different. I might have made a show of myself, which I am not normally prone to doing, but it was in the service of a friend, and to make my position clear." He let the light glance off his glasses. "Maybe also to show that I'm not as cold-blooded as all that -- for better or for worse."

"I know. But there are many ways to show something like that."

"Yes. You're right." Kyouya shrugged. "But at the same time, there was nothing to explicitly indicate my motives -- and at the same time, cats are like you." He drew a gentle knuckle across the side of Tamaki-cat's muzzle, which the feline took as an invitation to rub its jaw and neck-glands all over Kyouya's hand. "I am a little jealous of them. Sharing them with the rest of the world is a significant step."

Kaoru did not reply as he settled the Persian back on his torso, and rubbed its lower back, as if in apology. Kyouya was about to reach for a nearby stick with a feather on the end, when he felt a gentle nudge against his leg, and looked over to find a small, adolescent cat with fut as black as coal and its eyes as big as lollipops. 

Kyouya reached out to stroke the little beast, but he cat shrank away, sinking onto its haunches as the hand was about to meet its head. 

"Oh." Kyouya smiled. "I see we're still an apprentice host."

The cat remained frozen, crouched to the floor with its ears pinned against its skull. 

"Pur-row?"

Kyouya reached for the feather-toy, and brought it over to the side where there the cat apprentice was. He swished it from side to side, and the cat crouched down lower, tail batting side to side.

"I don't believe I've seen you before -- or on the list," Kyouya mused to no one in particular -- for speaking to a cat, even in a stronghold of cat lovers, was not a thing he had reconciled just yet.

"Oh, that's Noel -- he's a rescue" -- he heard the voice of the girl from the reception, and looked up to find her crossing the room with a tray of medicinal drops in hand. "We're attempting to take in cats from pet shelters, just to do a good deed, but it's still a work in progress. Noel seems a little afraid of the other cats: he doesn't even show himself much."

Noel leaped after the feather, and Kyouya, indulgently, let him land on top of it.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Kyouya said. "But I suppose not every cat will have the temperament to be successful in a place like this."

"Well, we're hoping he might come around -- it might just take the right customer." The girl gave a wink over her shoulder. "In fact, he's been here for two weeks, but I don't think he's ever interacted with a _guest_ before… He's always hiding…"

"Noel?" Kaoru emerged from a face-ful of peach-colored, Persian fur. "Like Christmas? Don't you think it might be Noir instead -- like black in French?"

"Oh…" The receptionist blinked her eyes. She had stopped in front of the Cornish Rex, who was idling, and had begun to administer its eye-drops. "Well… I -- I guess so? I'm not too sure. I don't really speak French."

"I think it's Noir." Kaoru nodded. "I think that makes more sense, especially since he's black."

"And, pray tell, what's going happen to Noir -- or Noel -- if he doesn't end up warning to the customers and other cats?"

"Oh…" The receptionist blinked her eyes. "Well, I'm not sure to be honest. I think he might go back to the animal shelter." She shrugged and rocked back and forth on her feet as if suddenly anxious to go.

Noir -- or Noel -- had released the feather from his paws, and had begun to shrink back, flicking his tail to distract the "enemy." He glanced at Kyouya one more time, and as the latter reached to pat his head, the little beast reared himself upward.

"He does like you!" The girl beamed, and gave the Cornish Rex a rub between its ears to reward its patience. 

Kaoru smiled and let the Persian be, running his fingers absently through its fur.

Kyouya listened to the Mozart lullaby playing in the background, and felt his eyes drifting shut. It had, after all, been a very long week, and contrary to popular belief, the reason for Kyouya's endless industry was not so much an endless drive, but the fact that if he stopped, his fatigue invariably overtook him.

"Alright, I'll take him," he murmured.

"Huh?" The girl's mouth fell open, and she nearly dropped her medicine-bottle. "He's -- I'm not sure if we're allowed to see our cats, though…"

The little cat had abandoned the feather on the stick, and had begun to climb Kyouya's leg. His paws were hardly bigger than fingertips, and Kyouya felt a set of claws, filed neatly down, as they sunk into the wool of his pants. Kyouya reached to touch the kitten's nose, and Noir arched his neck to meet him. 

"Still," he said, doing his best to remain nonchalant. The foot traffic ebbed and flowed outside the windowpane, and the city had descended into darkness, the billboards flickering as if across a bay. "I think he's got a temperament that's far better suited to being in a home, and you said he was from a pet shelter anyway. Perhaps we can speak to the owner, and come to some sort of agreement."


	16. Terminal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains suicidal ideation.

A few days later, Kyouya returned home after school to find Kaoru sitting at the coffee table in the living room, the book of French castles spread out on his knees. Noir had warmed up to his new owners, and was crouching at his feet, chewing earnestly on a toy mouse. 

Kyouya lowered himself to the floor beside him and reached to hug Kaoru's shoulders. Kaoru leaned into the touch.

"Hey. How's your day so far."

"Alright." Kaoru shifted to put his arms around Kyouya's chest, and burrowed his face into his collar. 

"Something on your mind?"

The dust buzzed like tiny bees in the rays of sun, and outside the flows of prairie-grass were beginning to fade and wilt, in step with a nonexistent harvest. Despite the rainy season having passed, September was stull the darkest, wettest month, bringing with it the beginnings of cool, and days like this were few and far between. September was also the month when Kyouya began to wish he could curl up with a book and forget his troubles, but alas the world had other plans.

Kaoru nodded into the shoulder.

"What is it?"

No answer came, but Kaoru's breath changed rhythm and adopted a laboured cadence. Kyouya reached for the kitten's toy, and Noir squatted over it possessively.

"Prrrow?…."

Kaoru rubbed his hand over Kyouya's chest, and his fingertips paused over the front closure.

"I…"

Their heat of their bodies was slowly flowing back and forth, the boundary between them disappearing. 

Noir released his hold over the mouse, and Kyouya picked it up, placing it on his knee to lure the kitten up. The kitten still didn't allow himself to be picked up, but was very fond of climbing, and often ended up on Kaoru and Kyouya's pillow at night, leaving behind short strands of fur.

"My doctor said I shouldn't be in a relationship right now."

"Oh."

Kaoru breathed out a ragged sigh, and shifted to sit athwart his lap, gently nudging the kitten aside. 

Somewhere, deep inside, Kyouya knew something like this would happen sooner of later. His frame shrank a bit, but he couldn't have said he was surprised. Somehow, it did not hurt. It was almost like he was living in anticipation of this moment for the last several months.

Kyouya tightened his hold on Kaoru's waist, arms sliding past one another.

"Well, I cannot say I disagree," he said.

"I'm so sorry, I -- I didn't really tell him until now, and then when I did he asked me a bunch of questions and then said he didn't think it was a good idea --" Kaoru's voice sank in his throat, and Kyouya raised his hand to draw his fingers through the copper-colored hair.

"No need to apologize."

"H-he told me I can be friends, but that I should wait at least three months until I'm better…"

Kaoru's voice faltered, and he seemed about to say more, but his words thrashed in his throat and died. Kyouya began to rub small, comforting circles into his friend's lower back and wondered, vaguely, why Kaoru would listen to his doctor now when he himself had said the same thing many times before. Something didn't add up -- there had to be more to where the body was buried.

"Alright. That -- that's fine, Kaoru. You don't need to try and justify it."

Kaoru pulled back.

"I -- we can get back together in three months… "

Kyouya put a hand on his arm -- for it was still extended and resting on his own chest.

"Kaoru, this isn't something you need to justify. Your first priority is your well-being. If your being well means you have to be alone for a while, then that's a thing for me to come to terms with."

Kaoru sighed. 

"And there's another thing. I was thinking -- maybe I could go to France and study abroad for a while. Mlle Martin has been telling me that she has connections at the school we visited in Paris, and if I passed the language exam they'd easily take me. I just kind of thought it would be weird for me to keep staying here, but I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Kaoru, I'm not sure not having a place to go is a good reason to study abroad." Kyouya pressed his elbows against the side of the couch, letting go of Kaoru's waist. "If you want to study abroad, then by all means go and study abroad, but there will be a place for you here, no matter what our relationship. I would not be uncomfortable at all -- and even if I were, I'm hard-pressed to imagine that you don't have other, extended family you could stay with."

Kaoru shook his head. "No, I really don't. I mean, I do, but I don't want my other family to know."

Kyouya shrugged. Well, fair enough, but you know you could stay at my family's second estate -- or we could figure out another arrangement --"

But Kaoru shook his head again, this time more adamantly. "No, it's just… Okay, you're right, that's not really the issue. I just feel like I'm suffocating here -- in this country I mean. It's like everybody knows what I've been through, and everybody knows that something's wrong, and everyone wants to 'help' me. I'm afraid to set my foot out of the door, and I want to go back to school, I feel like I'm ready, but I can't because of that…"

"So what you're saying is, you want a some semblance of a normal life, but you don't think you can get that here?"

Kaoru nodded, almost too quickly, and Kyouya studied the copper-colored irises.

"Well, that I can understand. But my only concern is that going away is going to be hard -- harder now than it might have been otherwise. After all, you seem to be benefiting from your treatment, and cultural adjustment has its own set of challenges. Maybe going to a boarding school in a different part of Japan might be a better idea?"

Kaoru shook his head. "No, I don't think so. You see, I always wanted to go to France and actually spend some time there. I think it's good to have a challenges to help me get out of my head a bit. And I really do want to become more independent. I can always continue therapy there -- I'm pretty solid in French so I can talk about most anything, or I could go the telemedicine route and talk to my therapists on skype (™)." He paused, and shrugged noncommittally. "And besides, if it doesn't go well, I can always come back."

Kyouya continued to study the twin, carefully scrutinizing his features.

Kaoru's face -- despite the import of what was being said -- was exactly like a statue's -- like one of the neoclassical ones they saw at the Louvre, the nose slightly bowed and the large eyes fixed as if on running water.

"Kaoru, it seems to me that you don't really care so much what your doctor says; you just want to get away from everything you know -- including me."

The blow struck, Kyouya leaned back and watched the reaction. Contrary to popular belief, even he was not averse of being direct at times. 

Noir gave Kyouya's thigh a nudge, and he reached to the side to pet the kitten by touch. 

"Yes… I think that's a good way of putting it, actually." Kaoru folded his hands together, and pressed the thumbs against each other in a slow, meditative move. "I really do want to be with you. I can't imagine myself with anyone else, it's just…"

"Kaoru --" Kyouya smiled and cocked his head. "There's really no need…"

Kaoru folded his lips into a sour expression.

"No, I don't think you understand."

"No, Kaoru. I really do." Kyouya smiled again. "Common wisdom suggests that whenever there is a "but" or a "just" in a given sentence, the only thing that matters is what comes after ."

Kaoru let his lower lip sink a bit, but his overall mien was not one of capitulation.

"No, that… really isn't not what I meant," he said again. "What I meant was, I think that this can be a trial. I mean, I want to be on my own for a bit -- not so I could run from myself, but so I can see myself more clearly. After all" -- he shrugged -- "Everything else will be gone, but I will remain, and I just don't want people... to worry about me all the time, you know?"

It was Kyouya's turn to look down in poorly concealed irritation.

"Kaoru. You're not an inconvenience. You know that."

"Yeah, I do know that. But I want to work towards being together. You know you were right -- maybe now is not the time, but that's not to say we can't be together later, when we're ready."

Kyouya remained silent. The kitten's paws were still on his hip, but he pointedly ignored him. I don't want your pity -- he wanted to scowl, but bit back his tongue. Kaoru cocked his head, hazarding a smile.

"I think you underestimate me a little, that's all." In fact, I'm not your little lapdog, Kyouya. I'm more than the boy you're trying to fix, in your good Samaritan ways. "And look" -- Kaoru's eyes grew softer -- "I promise, I'll come back, and then we can have our life together."

He extended a hand, and Kyouya saw that it was showing a pinky. 

All the while, he had been trying to ignore it, but it was no use -- it was like trying to carry on a conversation when his gut had been sliced open. He had caught himself wondering, several times, when things would finally fade to black, and yet the childish gesture still had an indescribable effect on him, like a tiny, five-year-old hand pulling him back from the edge of a precipice.

He took his hand away from the carpet and tried to smile, hooking his pinky onto the twin's.

"Alright. But you know it's also perfectly acceptable if you don't -- right, Kaoru?"

…

Haruhi, as was her nature, did not like to stir the pot. She knew something of nuclear proportions had happened between the twins, but she also sensed it wasn't like the first time -- and simply forcing everyone into the same room to apologize was not going to be enough. In her Aquarian mind, she felt something was deeply wrong, but she consciously suppressed it. After all, there was nothing she could do; it was not her fight -- and yet… A tiny worm still gnawed at the back of her heart, in quiet moments during class when they did her work, whenever she let her eyes drift over to Hikaru.

Kyouya had said that Hikaru had become chopped liver, and he was right. When Yuzuha had found him in his bathroom, having slashed his wrists for the second time, passed out, and turning the water red, he had of course gotten all the help he needed. But it hadn't done much. Therapy and hospitals were only as good as one wanted them to be, and he didn't want them to be -- not in the slightest. All he wanted was his brother back; without that, life was meaningless. After a time, he simply took up to swearing up and down that he was never going to hurt himself again, just so they'd let him go home and lie face-down in his own bed without someone checking up on him every fifteen minutes.

At least Yuzuha had not told Kaoru about the attempt -- as he had begged her not to. That was the only redeeming feature of the experience.

Weeks and months had passed, swirling around his head like restless ghosts, but Hikaru still wasn't really living.

He didn't even want Kaoru back in his bed anymore. He just wanted him back.

And so it wasn't until a mid-September day, when the sun was inexplicably shining despite a long string of dreary, rainy days, that Hikaru woke up and determined he couldn't keep living that way any more. He turned over in his bed, limbs leaden like they always were after an unrefreshing sleep, and glanced out the window. The morning light lay like a spider's web over the blonde-wood floor, and there was a chill in the air. Hikaru decided that if nothing changed by the end of the day, he would revisit his plans and this time make them foolproof.

That sign had come, in the form of Momoka Kurakano. She was class co-representative for two years running, and was working with Haruhi and Hikaru on a group exercise in French class.

"You know, Hikaru, I heard your brother's going to study abroad in Paris."

Momoka's comment was innocent, to be sure -- but Haruhi, who had been keeping written record of their work, had raised her eyes as if in silent dread of what was to come.

"He -- what?"

Momoka blinked her eyes at Hikaru.

"Going to Paris. To study at our sister school, the Lycee Saint Germain des Pres."

Hikaru, who had been hitherto sitting like slab of rock on a promontory being pounded by rain -- his baseline attitude for the last several months -- had raised his head from scrutinizing the characters someone someone had etched into the corner of his desk.

"H-how do you know that?"

"Well I, uh…" Momoka faltered for a moment, her pen tight in her hand and the buns atop top of her head like two sheepish ears, perked up in an attitude of 'please don't hurt me.' "I was called into the teachers' lounge the other day, and I overhead Mme Betancourt and another teacher talking -- something about a letter of recommendation --"

"W-hat?! And you didn't tell me until now?"

"Hikaru, don't shoot the messenger --" Haruhi reached instinctively for her friend's arm.

"Hitachiin -- no need to raise you voice" -- the teacher called from across the room, successfully diverting the attention a couple of heads that had begun to turn in the trio's direction. 

Hikaru slumped down in his chair, and repressed a violent urge to slash his wrists, vomit, and then gouge his eyes out.

"Besides," added Haruhi, giving Miss Kurakano a firm and unmistakeable kick under the desk. "I asked her to keep her eyes and ears open, so you should be grateful. Class representatives have a lot more access to things, so it only made sense."

Hikaru breathed hard, staring at the desk and flexing and un-flexing his fingers.

"Hikaru," -- Momoka ventured in a small voice. "I know it's not my place and all, but it looks to me like you haven't been in a good place, and I really wish there was something we could do to help, but it's hard to know if you never tell us what's wrong --"

Haruhi made quick and pointed eye contact with the class representative and violently shook her head.

But it was too late.

Hikaru's head snapped up. His nostrils flared, and not just with annoyance anymore.

And, violent violent action in 3, 2, 1...

"Look, you know what's wrong?!" -- he hissed. "Nobody ever tells me _anything_, that's what's wrong!"

Momoka sank in her seat a little, her primly straightened hair jumping the tiniest bit with the motion.

"Kyouya's completely blackballed me, and everyone else pretends like nothing's going on, and Kaoru himself --"

"HITACHIIN!" 

The heads that had begun to crane toward the huddle of Hitachiin twin, class representative, and token scholarship student snapped back towards the teacher.

"Do you understand neither Japanese nor French? Do I need to I say it in German?"

A mild ripple of laughter rushed across the room.

"I won't tell you again -- keep your voice down, do your work, use French while you are in my class, or I will fail you for the day, is that clear?"

Hikaru smirked, and slowly peeled himself out of his chair.

"No need," he replied in defiant Japanese. "I'd much rather spend my time in the principal's office, thank you."

…

As Kyouya lay in the darkness of his room, he wondered what it had all been for. It had been many years since he'd drifted off to sleep in any attitude besides that of resting on his stomach, hugging the pillow, but this time he had curled into a ball, and did not care what some collective consciousness might have thought had they found him in such an infantine pose.

He had even gotten his giraffe out of the closet, now that Kaoru was gone and sleeping in a separate bed.

He had made his bed -- literally and figuratively -- so there was nothing to be done. But sleep, as luck would have it, would not come that night or any other night -- and neither did his appetite in the mornings. He had never had any qualms about being the sacrificial lamb -- carefully cultivated facade of pragmatism aside -- but this time, something told him he'd be a fool to wait. And so he resolved to give Kaoru one last chance. He wasn't the sort of man to be kept waiting while his lover exhausted all other options but himself, but all the same, the resolve had not brought him the same satisfaction it usually did.

Rather, it only took the wind out of his sails, like it was only a matter of time.

He did not know how long it had been since he had gotten into bed. Laying down to sleep and not reaching oblivion almost immediately was totally foreign concept to him. And then he heard the bedsprings creak, and almost immediately rolled over on his back and squinted -- as if on autopilot -- into the filigreed brocade of the moonlight on the ceiling.

He almost did not need his glasses to know who it was, and felt a percolating sense of the inevitable.

"You know, I almost don't want to go," Kaoru mused.

"Then don't."

"I have to, though. Everything's already set and I promised."

"You promised?" Kyouya ran his hand over his face and rolled over to his side. His mind was adamant on the topic of sleep, but his temples still buzzed and his whole body ached, like he had been badly beaten. "To whom? The administration? Surely they can understand."

"No, it's not that. I have to go." Kaoru paused, glancing at the pile of Kyouya under the covers."I'm just so sorry, you know? I've been so fickle towards you. First Nice, now this…"

Kyouya gave a low groan at the bottom of his throat, and rolled over on his stomach.

"Kaoru, please. You don't need to force yourself." General wisdom suggests that an apology if only worth something if you plan to change your ways -- he wanted to say, but stifled the urge. "General wisdom says that if you want someone, then you'll do what i takes to keep them, whereas if you don't, you will always find an excuse."

Kaoru sighed, and puffed for several moments through his lips.

"It's not your fault, Kyouya, you know that."

"I know."

Kaoru drew a deep sigh, and fell silent. A few moments passed, and Kyouya had almost begun to drift when he was snapped to again by the rustle of springs and shifting of weight, and before he knew what was what, the covers atop him had shifted as well, and suddenly Kaoru was beside him, and pulling him into a hug.

"Kaoru, please."

But he knew it was useless. One chance, two chances, three -- it was all an exercise in self-deception.

…

Both slightly dazed, they lay on top the covers of the bed. The moonlight lay in filigreed brocade over Kaoru's body now, and his hands were caressing his own thighs. His boxers had been tossed into the corner of the room, and Noir was using them to glide around the polished flooring.

"This is… just going to keep happening, isn't it?" -- Kyouya ventured into the darkness.

"Yep."

"And it seems there's no way out, is there?"

"Not at all."

"I was afraid of that." 

Kaoru smiled, and rolled over impishly onto his stomach. 

"Yes. Exactly. That's why I need to get away. I need to not to rely on you like this. I want to be able to do things on my own -- it will mean more to us that way, don't you agree?"

Kyouya breathed in and out several times, and Kaoru took the opportunity to slide in close to him.

If nothing else, they both slept very well that night. So well, in fact, that Kyouya slept through his alarm and had to be wakened by Noir, who had been yowling for his breakfast.

…

The days slipped quickly by, and Kaoru had applied, and secured his recommendations, and was admitted before the end of September. He would be starting a bit late -- by just about a month -- but under the auspices of the partnership between schools, the liberty was hardly a significant one. 

It was an excessively warm day -- almost T-shirt weather and a last hurrah of summer amid a string of wet and windy days, when Kyouya finally helped Kaoru pack his bags, and the two set off for the airport.

Glancing back at the Ootori estate before getting into the car, Kaoru surveyed the grounds with something like longing. The plot of prairie -- wild against the modern steel and glass, had just about finished wilting, exhausted after a long and scorching summer. 

"You'll always be welcome here," Kyouya had said, rather uselessly as the last of the baggage was loaded into the trunk.

Kaoru nodded, and remained silent as the gates of the estate closed behind them. They were replaced by undulating waves of concrete road that was Western Tokyo, but Kaoru still didn't cease to look out the window in the direction where the gates had disappeared.

...

"So this is it, then."

"Yeah, I guess so." 

They were standing in the middle of the crowded airport hall, a small oasis of silence amid the rushing, endlessly flowing streams of people. The sounds of a thousand feet pattered against the walls like a deafening rain, and the sun was so bright that it was difficult to see.

"I've got a little bit of time, I guess."

The tickets were in hand, the baggage checked, but the ambiguity of their relationship left them at a crossroads. Three times, in the last two weeks, they had let their feelings get the best of them. Kyouya had even wondered -- out loud -- if it wasn't simply better to give up the pretense, but Kaoru was adamant. Etiquette, mercifully, would not have allowed much more than a hug, but neither wanted to be the one to define its nature, or usher things forward to the question of who would end it. 

And then they both, simultaneously, felt the presence of another human being as a set of footfalls separated itself from the crowd.

Kaoru turned in the direction of the newcomer and found himself staring into a mirror.

"H-hi --?"

But the word was promptly smothered in his throat.

And Hikaru it most certainly was. His chest was rising and falling quicker than normal, like he'd been running, and he wore a faded T-shirt with an insignia of a band. His face was more gaunt than Kaoru remembered it, and he wore a long-sleeved waffle shirt underneath despite the heat.

Kyouya took a defensive step toward Kaoru, and Kaoru's hand flew instinctively to Kyouya's wrist.

Hikaru let out a small sigh -- like he had been waiting for something.

"Uh… It's okay... Uh, hi, Hikaru, what are you doing here?"

Kaoru tried to sound casual -- happy, even -- but on the inside he felt ill. Not frightened, exactly, but much like a prodigal son who had scorned his parents and ran away, and for years they had gotten neither call nor a letter, to say nothing of support in their infirm old age.

"Looking for you." Hikaru's voice sounded as haunted as he looked. "Look, Kyouya" -- he turned to the other boy. "Can I talk to just Kaoru for a second? I promise I won't do anything -- it's a goddamn airport."

Kyouya let his gaze slide over Hikaru's face. 

"How did you find out we were here?"

Hikaru shrugged. "Haruhi," he said simply.

"Ah. Well. Anything you might want to say to Kaoru you can say to me as well, so I suggest you get on with it -- Kaoru's flight leaves in 40 minutes."

Hikaru pressed his lips together and looked doggedly down.

"No." His voice sounded, altogether, like he was dying, but he still managed to come off like he wasn't going down without a fight. "I don't want to talk to you. I want to talk to Kaoru. If Kaoru himself were to tell me to go away, I would, and I would never back again, but I want him to do it on his own, without your -- influence."

Kyouya breathed hard, and so did Hikaru, but neither broke the silence.

"Kyouya," Kaoru finally spoke up. "It's okay. You can just watch us from a distance. If anything happens, I can walk away. Like he said, this is a public place."

The words hung heavy in the air -- marinating for a few moments without answer. Hikaru looked not just pale but grey, and it was a good half-minute before Kyouya spoke again.

"Alright." He raised his finger to his lips, shooting the older twin a death-stare that only the "Shadow King" was capable of. "But if anything happens… well, let's just hope that you know me well enough."

He threw Hikaru another death-glance and walked away, taking a seat at the end of a row of benches.

Once Kyouya was out of earshot, Hikaru let out a deep breath, but his face still looked ill -- so much so that it almost hurt to look at him.

"So. You're together now," he said dully.

Kaoru swallowed -- barely perceptibly. Of course, he had known this moment would come, but try as he might, there was no way to prepare for it. He had been out of touch with Ouran for so long -- but it wasn't too hard to imagine the rumors. Kyouya was human after all. Maybe he had come to school looking too happy in recent weeks, or someone had noticed odd marks on his skin in the changing room in gym class. 

He drew a breath.

"Yes. Yes, we are -- or, we were. But I'm leaving, so we decided to call it off for now. France will be a fresh start."

Hikaru stared down at his brother's knees, and if he had heard him, he gave no sign.

"So you're leaving, then," he said vacantly. "For how long?"

"Well, until December at least. It's not really worth it if it's less than one semester."

"Why."

Kaoru sighed. 

"Do I really need to answer that, Hikaru? I just wanted to, that's all. I need to sort myself out -- somewhere far away from here."

"So Kyouya was not enough to keep you, then."

Kaoru bit his bottom lip.

"It's really not about him."

Hikaru chewed the inside of his cheek and rocked back and forth on his soles a few times.

"Okay, look, whatever. I just wanted to tell you something before you went."

"Okay, go ahead."

"Well, you probably know what it is already. All I wanted to say is I'm sorry I fucked everything up. I'm sorry I didn't let you try to let you make me feel better that night, and that I went off drinking and partying instead and did what I did. I'm not expecting that it's going to fix anything, me saying this, but I just wanted to let you know that if I had one wish, I'd wish for you to have a good life, and if there is anything I can do to make that happen, well..." He shrugged. 

Kaoru watched his brother with a vague, detached expression.

"You know, Hikaru," he said at last. "This might come as a surprise to you, but I don't hate you. Even after everything that happened, I still don't. I still want you to be my brother."

"You… do?"

For the first moment, it did not appear as though Hikaru had heard, but when he looked up, and it was hard to tell if his eyes expressed fear or the incredulity.

Kaoru nodded.

"Kyouya's been really kind to me, and I love him for that… But I haven't really been a complete person since I saw you last. Like, I will do things, and I will feel things, but none of it seems real. It's more like my life is one long string of vague anxieties that never really get resolved."

"Oh."

Kaoru shrugged. "That's why, I guess, I thought I'd get away. Be on my own for a bit. Try and grow into myself a bit, you know?"

"Kaoru, I don't think this is the way."

"Yeah. Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not. But I don't have any other ideas."

Hikaru breathed in and out several times, sucking on his teeth. The voice of the PA came on, announcing something indistinct, but over the noise of roller-carts, the clatter of heels, and the steady rush of conversations the sound was quickly drowned out.

"I just wish there was a way to bring it all back -- you know? The way things were."

"I wish that too. But you know that's never going to happen" -- Kaoru smiled and shrugged. The flows of light were coming down from the window-walls in rivers now. How many earnest goodbyes, how many tears, how many I love yous had been shed from people's lips within these walls? Certainly more, and more authentic ones, than the ones spoken within the walls of any church…

"Yeah, I guess not." Hikaru smiled. "So I don't know… It's up to you."

The PA system came on once more, and Kaoru listened vaguely for his name. It wasn't like he was delaying his flight, it hadn't been that long, but one never could tell.

The PA system faded.

There were two paths that before him, and both were beautifully straight, and both disappeared just as quickly. The choice made him feel moribund and ill -- but there was no way out, only through.

"Hikaru," he said. "I want to… write to you. I want to try. I want to get used to talking to you again. I'm not really ready for anything else, and maybe this trip comes at a good time, but I really do want this." 

He pressed his knuckles together, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Kyouya get out of his seat and check his watch.

"Kaoru, it's getting late." The Ootori appeared at his shoulder. "We have to go."

…

The dark-haired boy and the redhead were standing before the colonnade of glass and watching the sun, setting red over the long string of barracks. A plane had just taken off -- and while it may or may not have been Kaoru's, a certain need for silence had rooted them both to the spot. As the plane broke from the runway, Kyouya let go of his cell phone in his pocket, and let out a sigh. Inside lay Kaoru's explanation -- spanning five text-messages -- which the latter had sent him from the boarding dock.

"Kyouya" -- it had read. "My decision still stands, but there's something you should know. You see, it was never a question or you or Hikaru -- it was more a question of Hikaru as a prerequisite for everything else, the puzzle piece that tied everything together. You're not a twin, so I don't expect you understand, but in all fairness I didn't understand it either until now. It's funny, it took me a journey there are back again to understand, but never mind. And also… I think you're right. I think there's no reason for us not to be 'official.' I really don't care what my doctor says. I can be independent and still sign my letters 'your loving Kaoru.'"

In other words, as Kyouya concluded long before, there was no way to save his heart in all of this -- but for the moment, it was something he was willing to accept. He turned to Hikaru and shifted his lips into a semblance of a smile.

"Mongolian barbecue?" -- he raised an eyebrow. "We've got some… strategizing to do, though don't be getting any ideas that this is absolution."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, I MAY be taking a small hiatus from this story - I have ideas as to what I want to happen next when Kaoru goes to France, but it's a little bit controversial: it involves the Tonnerres (yes, Eclair Tonnerre and her family) -- THOUGH DON'T WORRY, Hikaru and Kyouya will still be around, and playing an important part in Kaoru's life.
> 
> In any case, however I feel like I might need to switch gears for a while. I may work on Hostage, or float a new fic idea and see how it takes. Best wishes - if you have any thoughts on what you'd like to see in the continuation of this story, please drop me a line.


	17. Light in Autumn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh, gosh. Hello, everyone, and happy New Year. I'm sorry, it's become official: I used to be able to post a new update every week, but for a number of reasons that is no longer possible. For one thing, I think I've objectively become a slower and a nitpickier writer, all other things equal. Writing somehow takes more out of me now, and it doesn't help that in this story in particular I am dealing with some heavy shit, including a letter-writing and e-communication component that adds another later of complexity. Plus, I am working on three fics in parallel whereas my maximum before was two - and, I am roleplaying my beloved Twins and Kyouya on tumblr, so if you really are itching for more of the characters, hint, hint, wink, wink, drop me a message and I'll tell you where to find me. Maybe I'm spread too thin, and I accept that, but this is what I need right now. And finally, my life is not getting any less crazy, and my health is deteriorating in some respects, so I've got to take care of that.
> 
> That said, I am in no way giving up. These stories mean a great deal to me, as do my wonderful readers. It may take me months, it may take me years. But I will finish. This is a life-sustaining effort, even if life will sometimes get in the way.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Your friendly neighborhood writer.

For some reason, Kyouya couldn't bring himself to hate him. As he looked at Hikaru across the table, he had to pinch himself to notice the hair was combed the other way - he'd grown so used to Kaoru that Hikaru himself felt like a fiction.

In the minds of many, Mongolian barbecue was not really a barbecue, nor was it Mongolian. It was a place where people ordered custom stir-fries with vegetables and meats they had picked out... But Kyouya knew better than to be taken in by such things, and took Hikaru to a true Mongolian restaurant - where booths were made of brick and leather, and open-pit barbecues were blazing at strategic locations around the hall with large, raw, sizzling sides of meat turning over them.

He set his face in a suitably severe expression, and placed his finger over the beveled spine of the knife. The rack of ribs lay steaming on his plate, their ends still bearing the mark of the saw, the dark red juices pooling beneath them. Hikaru was pulling at the sleeves of his shirt, and running his hands over his wrists as he stared at the identical set of ribs before him.

From what he had heard from Yuzuha, Kyouya knew that Hikaru had gotten his just desserts - perhaps more, but it still felt like a string had gone missing from underneath one of the hammers of his soul.

Enough was enough - he decided. There came a point when enmity was not productive.

"Alright, then," he said, fixing his napkin around his chin and taking the first, ceremonious cut into his ribs. "I think we are agreed that if nothing else, this trip is a terrible idea for Kaoru -"

"Except if he gets something into his head, there's obviously no stopping him," Hikaru finished glumly. He poked his fork into his meat.

"Exactly. And yet we are both know him well enough and are both invested in his future -"

Hikaru sighed and studied his ribs with a dissipated air.

"So I think," Kyouya went on, fixing his napkin once more with a businesslike air, "Is that it only makes sense that we work together. I think we both have plans to correspond with Kaoru, yes?"

Hikaru nodded.

"Well, then. I propose that we swap information. I don't mean tell each other everything, obviously some things are private, but if there's any cause for concern - any at all - we let the other know and act in concert."

He took a rib he had cut off, and took the end in his hand, eyes trained on Hikaru. The juices dribbled down his hand, stopping just short of the crease between the base of his thumb his palm, and he felt a chafe of irritation - inevitably, it was going to slip down under his cuff.

"So my brother gets no privacy, basically."

"Well, no, that's not -"

"But that's not even the point. I mean, I've been living in the same room as him for fifteen years, sleeping in the same bed -"

"I don't mean to pretend that I know your brother as well as you, perhaps I misspoke -"

"No, I know..."

Kyouya glanced down, pressing his lips. Again, his famous self-control was washing away. There was no way to hold his own between these twins; he felt himself fading into the walls.

The shadows danced against the cave-like ceiling, flickering over Hikaru's face.

"The thing is" - the twin bit his bottom lip - "Is that I've been living with Kaoru for so long, I know what he really means when he says things, and he speaks in riddles a lot - like if he says he's gonna go smell the roses -"

Hikaru's voice trailed off, his eyes following suit into the corner of the room. Kyouya tipped his hand in the opposite direction, and took a bite of the rib. It was juicy, no mistake - the acrid chalkiness of the char and the soft, yielding meat stirring the most primal senses within him. Hikaru followed suit by picking up his knife and cutting into his ribs with a slosh of dividing fat and a metallic squink of metal on plate.

Kyouya pondered for a moment.

The concept of a unique twins' lexicon was certainly not out of this world; even if the old adage of lovers' souls coming back as twins was an old wives' tale. He certainly had a ways to go in understanding Kaoru's trans-verbal lexicon; the only thing he had conclusively divined was that Kaoru was only as communicative as he wanted to be.

"Alright, then, so what do you propose?"

Hikaru shrugged, stabbing his knife vertically into his rack. "I don't know. I guess either way we know that my brother's not gonna have any privacy, so -"

Kyouya felt another kneejerk defense rising up his throat, but bit his lip, straightening his glasses over the bridge of his nose instead.

"I guess then the only way is to share everything. Literally copy each other on every email, forward every response, log every chat," Hikaru said.

"And you would be comfortable with that?"

Hikaru pushed his potatoes to the side of his plate, and poked the char atop his rack, clove-leaves and peppercorns imprinted where they had burned.

"Sure, if that's what it takes."

"I wonder that you're so calm about this, so soon after taking objection to such a strategy."

Hikaru frowned.

"Well, it's not something I want to do, but let me ask you this, have you had sex with Kaoru?"

"I...'m sorry?"

"It's a simple question. Did you or did you not have sex? I want to know."

The twin was looking pointedly down, lips pressed in a line. A furrow formed between Kyouya's brows.

"I don't see how that is relevant."

"It is."

"I see."

"Well, did you or did you not?"

"I'm not going to answer that - we're having dinner."

"Alright, then, I'm just gonna assume you did." Hikaru slowly cut into his ribs, and separated another piece. "In which case, was it good? Was it everything you ever hoped it would be and more? Was there no verbal communication for over three hours, did he look into your eyes and make you feel like your cock was the greatest thing in the world?"

Hikaru's voice quivered, becoming increasingly strained as he cut and spoke at the same time.

Kyouya slowly put down his knife. He didn't want to be responsible - for the words, in spite of the less than conducive atmosphere, had conjured images in his mind - images he didn't want, even though he knew Hikaru was trying to throw him off-balance with the memories of liquid gold, a winsome look, a porcelain beauty in a familiar face...

Forward through he was, Kaoru liked to win affection in subtler ways, too, like brushes of a hand as they passed each other in the day, or the lingering milliseconds of a proffered tissue...

Bristling, Kyouya willed the images away.

"Hikaru."

The twin's lips quivered, his brows settling in a hard line. A bit of char still stuck to the corner of his lip, and fox-brown hues fixed themselves, unblinking, upon Kyouya.

"Hikaru."

The lights from the open fires dancing quivered over the Hitachiin's eyes.

I know what you're trying to do, both to me and to you, and I'm not going to let you do it.

Kyouya sighed.

"Hikaru..." He paused. "Your brother..."

The fires blazed like torches - beacons - dotting a frozen plane, the angled walls amplifying a symphony of clattering forks to the volume of a rainstorm. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyouya saw the waitstaff's fitted coats, flitting in and out of his field of vision.

"Your brother... can be a very loving and affectionate person, yes, and he is very... talented in the regard that you mentioned. Now let's say no more about it, shall we?" Kyouya peered into his face, searching for the signs of pain, but Hikaru had averted his eyes, and was balling his sleeves into his hands.

"That's funny," he said with a dissipated air. "That didn't hurt as much as I thought it would."

"Well -"

Hikaru tightened his fist.

"I mean, I wanted it to hurt. But it's like I can't feel anything anymore - I'm just tired. I want to watch him and know he's at least a little happy, you know?... That's all."

He picked up his fork, sighing and twirling it between thumb and forefinger.

"I'm mean... I'm just so afraid of the idea of a world without him, you know? It's what sustained me all this time, the idea that you - even though I hated you so much - were out there somewhere with him, watching out for him."

A world without him? Kyouya just-refrained from shaking his head. You and be both. Tied by an accursed - or golden - thread. Depending on how you look at it.

"So you see" - Hikaru went on. "I'm not afraid of anything too personal; I've already played it out in my own mind, and if Kaoru doesn't know - I mean, I just..."

Love him more than life itself? - Oho, how quaint. Kyouya almost suppressed a chuckle, and narrowed his eyes, and yet he couldn't help but nod - too transfixed by Hikaru's features to say anything more.

He was so like Kaoru, and yet so unlike... The shadows dancing on the walls reflected in the peaks and valleys of his face... They even folded their hands the same way when they thought, and for once, he couldn't agree more. The idea of a world without Kaoru would mean that his, already replete with shadow, would have the lights turned out on it once and for all.

He put down his own fork and knife. As he released them, he clasped and unclapsed his hands several times, a trifle surprised that they had begun to sweat -

But no; it made perfect sense. It was very warm.

"Perhaps it's time to move on, is what you're trying to say," he said. "If living vicariously is all you can do, then so be it - but perhaps you can put your feelings to good use."

...

The dinner eaten, Kyouya sipped languidly on his tea as he waited for the bones to be cleared away. The restaurant, while it had gotten a decent grade for ambience, was lacking when it came to service: they were too slow in filling things and taking them away.

"You know, it's funny," Hikaru mused from across the table, nursing the last, bits of meat off a piece of bone. "I don't hate nearly you as much as I thought I would. And it's not just the dinner talking, either."

Kyouya put aside his cup and hazarded a smile.

"You know," he said. "I'd have to say the feeling is mutual."

...

to: Kaoru

bcc: Hikaru

Dear Kaoru,

It's been a long day, and I miss you already. I hate to be so candid - and I know you'll smile at the thought - but I'm looking forward to this new medium of communication. I feel that a pen and paper (or keyboard and screen) are more forgiving in some respects, and I may be able to say things that I struggle with in person.

I had dinner with your brother, and we talked, among other things, about you. I was impressed with how understanding he seemed of your struggle, and I commend you for reaching out to him as well. Only time will tell how things will develop from here, but if nothing else, I feel this is a hopeful beginning.

While waiting for sleep to come, I hate to admit it, but I've broken the first rule of sleep hygiene: not taking a device with me in bed. I cannot help it, though. It's a wonder how quickly I got used to falling asleep with you by my side, and the neon glow of a backlit screen staves off the thoughts I don't want to confront just now. I suppose I shall have to drink an extra cup of espresso in the morning.

I hope you enjoy Paris, and hope your journey over Eurasia is uneventful. When I was there, I thought that Paris in the fall was a time and place where you would fit in perfectly.

All my best,

Kyouya.

...

Kaoru had always thought that there was something of a violence to the city of Paris - a beautiful violence, but a violence nonetheless. The regimented straightness of the Napoleonic boulevards, the ceremonious sameness of the houses - the silent monuments to a time when the slums of Paris had been bulldozed over to clear the way for a new world-order.

It had been decided that Kaoru would live with Sayuri "Lilith"** Houshakuji-de Rastignac, aunt of the twins' friend Renge Houshakuji and an old college friend of Yuzuha Hitachiin's. Lilith Houshakuji-de Rastignac had come to Paris in the 60's in hopes of meeting Simone de Beauvoir, but had stayed to study psychology and went on to establish a leisurely practice in psychoanalysis out of her home in Rue du 4 Septembre, in the heart of the theatre and financial district. She had not left Paris for many years - and her friends, Yuzuha and the late Mrs. Ootori, had liked to joke that there was nothing of the Japanese left about her. But Lilith Houshakuji-de Rastignac liked it that way, for she was a safe and comfortable woman in every respect, and much like her husband - who had eschewed the courtroom in favour of dealing with rich men's bonds - she preferred having the world to come to her and would only very rarely make an exception.

(**Sayuri means "Lily" in Japanese; hence, Lilith is a natural and suitably edgy nickname.)

As a consequence, twenty-five years had gone by, and her practice was much the same - still in the hollow of her study - three flights up and to the right of the sweeping, wrought-iron staircase, please ring twice. And the couple's dwelling-place, adjacent to the study, was much the same as well, the order of things only disturbed by the housekeeper who came every a week to wipe the dust off.

Sayuri and her husband has no children, and so enthusiastically agreed to take Kaoru on. While Yuzuha could have given the job to any one of her fashion-world connection, Sayuri, she had decided, was the best: after all, with her psychology experience, Kaoru would have someone to talk to, and someone to keep and eye on him who knew the warning signs. At the same time, Sayuri had declared that she had always longed to have a child, but had balked at the prospect of childbirth, the cultivation of manners, and the very real prospect that the child would turn out nothing like her and would serve as a natural target for her own insecurities.

But here - what a miracle - there was a child already formed, at an independent age, and serendipitously interested in all the right things, along with being suitably bilingual and cultured. Lilith had been only too happy to oblige, especially since she always had an inkling her husband wanted a child, but had been too in love and too under her heel to say it.

Except - the Houshakuji-Rastignacs did not get to immediately meet their guest, for Kaoru had collapsed in bed almost immediately upon arriving, and when he appeared the following morning - dressed smartly in a jacket and a tie - he had declared that he wanted to go to school without delay, and that he only just had time to eat breakfast.

"School?" - Madame Lilith put down her cup of coffee, raising her thinly threaded eyebrows. "But wouldn't you rather rest a bit? You've only just arrived - I cannot imagine your body is adjusted. You wouldn't want to visit the Musee and Theatre des Capucins - the perfume museum? Your mother told me you like fragrances."

But Kaoru shook his head, quietly noting that Madame Lilith looked like the sort of person who did not like to torture herself. Under her slate-grey cardigan, she looked rather vesuvian, but her face was that of a happy woman unfazed by the mass hysteria of thinness.

Kaoru found himself smiling at the thought - he liked a person with a bit of devil-may-care, even if it she was a woman 30 years his senior.

"No, I've been looking forward to going to school," he said. "It's been a -"

\- While?

He paused. Come to think of it, how much did they really know? He wasn't sure, so he swallowed the rest of words.

"I mean, it's what I'm here for, isn't it? I've been excited to go to school."

Eugene, Lilith's husband, looked up from his morning paper with a "harrumph," and gave an approving nod.

"That's right, no use in slacking off - here, I can walk you to the station when I go to the office."

Kaoru's reaction was such that only a lifetime of careful breeding could have prevented his eyebrows from hitting the roof... But it was only the beginning. He soon found out that Eugene de Rastignac, a son of the nobility with assets worth as much as half of Japan Airlines, was very much a proponent of a Spartan lifestyle. Or at least a Spartan lifestyle as he understood it. Among other things, this included breakfast, which was rather a simple affair - pain au chocolat for Kaoru as "the child," black coffee, and toasted tartine with butter - as well as a home with only three bedrooms and just as many servants. He stated that he'd never much for servants - they made him uncomfortable, and Lilith never cared for the complexity of running a large household. As such, he stated that he hoped that Kaoru would not find it offensive that they only had three staff - Cecile, the chef, Diane, who came to do the weekly, thorough cleaning, and Coire, a charming Scottish expat who did "light cleaning," fed the cats, and got the door and phone when nobody was home.

Kaoru did not know whether to laugh all the way to the literal bank - for that was where Eugene de Rastignac worked - or to instantly update everyone on the circumstances with the hashtag #Tamaki.

...

In Japan, students got up and bowed when class began. In France, it was much the same without the bow - the sound of two dozen chairs scraping the floor greeted Kaoru as he and the teacher entered the room, someone in the back shouted "quiet," and the teacher's heels clicked across the wood. It was odd how remarkable a job Ouran had done in recreating the Western atmosphere - the ceilings were just as high as they were back home, the halls echoed just as much, the oaken desks had flip-tops for storing books that had been marked up in the same way by generations of listless students. In the classroom, the marble walls were adorned with books and flambeaux to commemorate a legacy of learning; one wall had been fully devoted to French windows, which let in a light that spilled and washed across the lacquered floors, and even the chalkboards were the same bottle-green color, the only difference being that here they spanned three walls of the room, and had not been erased the day before.

"Class, this is our new exchange student from Ouran Academy in Japan." The teacher stopped just short of the podium, evidently deciding not to elevate herself above the students. "Kaoru Hitachiin. Everyone, please make Hitachiin feel welcome."

Kaoru scanned the room - faces much more diverse than he was used to, in hair color and skin color if not in other things, for he wasn't used to telling apart the finer points of Western features. All of a sudden, he felt very strange: he was accustomed to standing out, but knew he wouldn't be able to in this crowd. He didn't know whether to like that or not. He also didn't have to look very hard to see a mix of consternation and other confused emotions behind most sets of eyes.

Japan? Then why are you so -?

Hitachiin? THE Hitachiin?

Are you illegitimate or something?

Ooh, juicy...

One of the boys he saw near the front of the room had very light hair and sparsely set freckles. He also wore a uniform that had appliqués on it like a bomber jacket - probably making use of some loophole in the dress code - but as soon as the boy saw him, Kaoru looked away.

He tilted his head in a half-bow, and tried to smile to stave off the heaviness in his chest.

"I'm - looking forward to being in class with you all" - He searched the walls for a map to focus on, but did not find one. "I hope we can become friends -"

His tongue stumbled over the standard Japanese greeting upon joining a new class - it sounded awkward and clumsy, even though he thought he'd translated it well. The teacher nodded and gestured to an empty seat.

"Go ahead and take your seat, Hitachiin. There'll be time to get to know everyone in a little while."

As Kaoru walked toward the chair, he wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that everyone was staring at him, or the feeling of the empty space beside him.

...

The first lesson of the day, social studies, was spent mentally curled up in a ball, wishing for the small four-poster bed with the baby blue bedspread in his room at the Houshakuji-Rastignac house. He longed for the comfort of the beech tree, which grew in the courtyard and knocked against the window as he slept... He resented the clear blue sky above the schoolyard - it was too astringent and too bright, unmarred by even the contrail of an airplane.

The next lesson, physics, passed in a haze of jetlag, which had been nipping at his heels and finally caught up with him. And the third lesson, composition, was spent feeling horribly sorry for himself, his cheekbones hurting from unshed tears and his throat feeling like it was about to implode.

He even considered calling Kyouya and asking to come back; he tried to persuade himself that it wouldn't be failure; he simply wasn't ready for something like this, and Kyouya had been right to tell him so.

He ended up making it until 12:30, though, the last half hour spent in vague anxieties as to what he would say to people once they were dismissed for lunch. He tried to get himself a pep talk - "come on, you're a host - you know how to entertain people!" The thought echoed in his head, however, and at the same time he wondered - could it be that he was only a good host as long as Hikaru was there? Or what if hosting wasn't a thing in France, not to mention would be harder to pull it off in a foreign language?... He had an excellent command of classroom and textbook French, but when it came to making jokes, catching cultural references on the fly, and general teenage banter, he was most definitely still a novice.

And the truth was, Kaoru had never been good at starting conversations. Hikaru was far better, and Kyouya was a master at making small talk anything but small. When in doubt, Kaoru knew that at least in Japan he could act as a walking advertisement for his family company - but he always cringed at the thought of doing that. For instance, he couldn't stand it when when Hikaru blithely threw in, "our mother designed everything you see here today; if you see anything you like, we'll gladly take an order for you." Or, at the other end of things, he wanted to vanish when Kyouya shamelessly pushed the Club merchandise and people actually bought it - were he in Kyouya's shoes, he would have died of shame. He understood the necessity, of course, but he rather hoped that nobody would ask about his family's company in the first place; in fact, it was the biggest obstacle between him and his birthright - this missing gene of selling himself that he always hid under a facade of devil-may-care.

Because that was how it worked didn't it? You pretended to be bored to avoid looking boring. You pretended to have nothing to say because you worried nobody would care.

Thankfully, though, a group of students surrounded him no sooner than he'd managed to gather up his belongings - as soon as the bell had rung, there was an explosion of clattering desk covers, the shuffling of feet, and the squeaking of chairs. Kaoru found himself swept up into the hall and pressed up against the wall with a dozen pair of eyes on him - the vast majority of them female, and beautifully blue, and made up in neutral, flawless colors.

And then the questions came in rapid-fire succession - where in Japan, what part of Tokyo, and whether he knew so-and-so at Ouran. "Hitachiin - that actually sounds Russian to me, I never knew the company was Japanese" - somebody said - though Kaoru couldn't have known who, for with the jetlag and the fact that he was still unused to a fully French milieu, his classmates' features were largely a blur. He'd thought of correcting the speaker on the syncopation of the last two syllables, but before he could do so, his voice got drowned out by the raucous laughter of the assembly, and a few of them had booed down the speaker and insisted that not only was he an unlettered boor, but had clearly never been inside a Hitachiin boutique in the first place.

As the laughter died down, Kaoru drew a small sigh of relief, for it seemed like he still had it in him to make people laugh, never mind that he hadn't done anything to make them laugh directly - but even as he did so, a strange hush fell over the crowd, and those on the periphery started to turn their heads.

Kaoru turned to look as well - and even as the conversation died down, he heard the mincing echo of kitten heels as a girl appeared at the end of the hall. She wore a slimmer-fitting, ladylike version of the uniform that everyone else wore, and had a companion walking a few steps behind on either side.

"It's queen Helen," whispered a girl in a pink headband who had been standing next to Kaoru - half in excitement, half in awe. She glanced at him as if to suggest that it was for his benefit that she was speaking at all, for apparently speaking was not allowed in the presence of such an august personage.

The gaggle of girls parted quickly - like that many soldiers, and Helen approached. Kaoru looked at her tried to draw some new conclusion on the subject of the French aesthetic.

"Queen Helen" was in fact a brunette of average, unobtrusive height, with unobtrusive, chestnut-colored hair that had been swept up in a bun at the crown of her head. Her finest feature was a pair of bright, almond-colored eyes, but it was her very unobtrusiveness that made her impossible to overlook, for everything about her was the golden average of all extremes, the features of a million girls converged in one perfect union.

She carried herself like a Spanish caravelle, a dancelike swing in her step and a smile on her lip. On either side of her there walked a girl: on the right a beautiful Masai who might have looked stunning in a many-tiered necklace, so long and graceful was her neck, and on her left was an icy blonde with eyes the color glaciers.

She threw a questioning look at Kaoru - appraising, quickly and quietly.

"I'll take it from here, ladies and gentlemen," she said at last, walking up to him and taking his hand. "I think Monsieur Hitachiin and I have a few things to discuss right now."

...

It was a lovely afternoon - one of the last of the season, and Kaoru and Helene had occupied a table in the corner of a patio-restaurant on the the river Seine. They sat outside, situated far away from the path of the wind, but the smell of rust still wafted its way up from the river, mixed with the smell of coffee and fresh baked bread - for the restaurant made its own.

The beautiful African girl Nouaia, and Aloise, the girl with the glacier eyes, had been with them at first, but after an hour they had begged off, and now Helene was sitting opposite "Monsieur Hitachiin" - for she that was what she liked to call him - and the two of them picking away at orders of the creamiest, most tart raspberry cheesecake the fields of Normandy had ever produced. Helene had rested her chin on top of her hands, primly folded, and propped them up on her elbows as she smiled a smile so wide it was almost vaudevillian.

The remnants of jetlag buzzed around Kaoru's head, and he tried to recall how he had gotten here. He vaguely recalled a lunch with the Queen and her ladies on the time-worn steps to the yard - a set of watercress sandwiches shared among them all, and conversations about people, places, and obsessions that Kaoru had no idea about and that made him feel like an expensive purse. Then there was the afternoon of class, a texted assignation to meet in front of the steps, a ride in a car with a chauffeur - though perhaps the last was to be expected...

It was altogether too much; Kaoru was beginning to regret having come to school in the first place. But now that he had had his espresso - and now that they were alone, he smiled pleasantly in return, and searched his mind for something to say. He was no stranger to girls taking an interest in him - popular girls, too... But for all her sophistication, the fact that Helene had dropped the queenly act and was now staring at him one part mischievous and one part transfixed, was far from the only discombobulating thing about her.

"Helene." He smiled softly, recalling that in general, a person's name was their favourite word. The smell of water from the river mixed with the tinny smell of oysters from the next table, along with the crispy, savoury aroma of fresh-baked bread. "It means light, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it does." The youngest Tonnere girl beamed - for that was what she was. When he had first found out, he quickly texted Kyouya almost by touch - he felt he couldn't afford not to. And Kyouya texted a single word back, Careful. But Kaoru didn't know what to make of it in context, for the "Tonnere Affair," as they now called it, had seemed to affect everyone except the Hitachiins: respecting them as the great fashion house, like Chanel or Dior, that was most valuable in its tradition of authenticity, Grand Tonnere had made no move to buy the company even as the Ootoris panicked and were only saved by Kyouya's machinations and Suoh tried to proffer his son to the Tonneres' daughter in marriage. In the end, Kaoru was not sure how things got resolved; he only knew that Haruhi had convinced the boss to come back in the nick of time, and Grand Tonnere had gone away as if nothing had happened. He also knew that Tonnere had made no effort to buy Japanese companies ever since, but as he tried to recall what Eclair Tonnere, Tamaki's ex-fiancee, had been like, he found out that he couldn't: she was a persona non grata at the club on account of her independent, manipulative antics, and so he found it difficult to form an objective opinion of her or her sister.

Helene unfolded her hands and refolded them over her napkin. "Yes, my sister's name is Lightning, and my name is Light." **

(*Eclair = lightning in French; Helene = the Greek root of the word means "light." Further ironic wordplay includes the fact that "Tonnere" means thunder in French, and thus one of the sisters' names is "Lightning Thunder.")

"Huh."

Helene raised her eyebrows, and Kaoru noticed she was wearing a bit of red in the creases of her eyelids.

"Nothing, never mind."

"No, please - do tell."

Her voice had something of a singsong air in it, which went along well with the dancelike rhythm of her step.

She was the younger sister - a whole year younger than Kaoru, and so only a middle schooler at the time of the Tonnerre Affair. He studied her features, and tried compare them to what he could remember of Eclair's, but it was hard: both girls were so flawless there was little to latch on to, and it was odd that he hadn't known Eclair had a younger sister, so it didn't cease to bother him. **

(**In the anime, it is stated that Eclair is the youngest daughter of the Tonnerre family, but as Kaoru notes, Helene is clearly younger, since she "was a middle schooler at the time." I am aware of this; this is not an intentional divergence from canon, but rather a reframing of the statement as a misconception, which will be explained later.)

"Oh, nothing much," he answered in an airy tone. "It's just that I have a twin brother. His name is also 'Light,' but not Helene, obviously…"

"Oh? What is his name?"

"Hikaru."

"Huh. Hikaru." Helene paused, testing the name out on her tongue. She mimicked Kaoru's pronunciation, the last consonant a perfect blend of r and l. "I like that. Maybe I should go by Hikaru instead. It's got the same number of letters — and starts with the same letter, too…"

Kaoru chuckled. "I don't know about that."

"Why not? I like the sound of it, and I like Japanese things in general."

Well, that explains a lot - Kaoru all but clicked his tongue.

Yet still he paused, scraping his fork along the side of his cheesecake. He didn't want to think about it, but he didn't know any better, the girl might have in fact had a few Hikaru-esque traits - including the impishness in her smile, the way she had shape-shifted right in front of his eyes...

In any case, it was just his luck.

He smiled and shook his head.

"I just think it would be confusing, that's all. Besides, I think Helene is much better. I think it suits you very well."

...

Hikaru tapped his fingers on the mousepad and wished he were a smoker, because if he were, he would have had the perfect way to calm his nerves.

He woke up early, having given up on Kaoru coming online the night before - but he had seen him logged in when he had checked at school, and so he was sure he had been unblocked. As such, he waited, staring at the light grey circle with bated breath, his soul flitting somewhere between his feet and the floorboards.

When Kaoru's light came on, he started, fidgeted for a very long moment, then jumped up and paced back and forth across the room. He paced for a good two minutes, then rushed back in a panic - but thankfully, the green light was still on.

He swallowed - hard, and began to type.

Hikaru: hey

Hikaru: um

Hikaru: is this okay?

Hikaru: that i'm talking to to you on skype? (tm)

Kaoru is typing...

Kaoru: Yeah, of course. :) Hi Hikaru. What's up?

Hikaru's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

Hikaru: um, not too much - he typed, fingers shaking. - just got your email. i'm glad you got there ok.

Kaoru: :)

Hikaru: so how are you?

Kaoru: I'm fine. A little tired.

Hikaru: oh

Hikaru: sorry

Hikaru: should i let you sleep?

Kaoru: No, it's ok. I got stuck at school until late. I just got back.

Hikaru: you went to school?

Kaoru: Yeah, why?

Hikaru: wow

Hikaru: that's impressive

Kaoru: It's funny, everyone says that. But I mean

Hikaru: well i mean you're probably still jetlagged as all hell

Kaoru: Yeah, I am. But it's not too bad.

Hikaru: did make any friends?

Kaoru: Yeah, a couple.

There was a pause in Kaoru's typing. Hikaru waited, eyes transfixed.

Kaoru is typing...

Kaoru: You know what's funny, though?

Hikaru: what?

Kaoru: Well, you know the guy I'm staying with, the husband of mom's friend?

Hikaru: yeah

Kaoru: So he's obviously a super-rich aristocrat, but he still walks to work every single day. Like seriously, rain or shine. He won't take a car. He takes the subway everywhere, too.

Hikaru: lol

Hikaru: that's actually kind of hilarious :P

Hikaru: he sounds a lot like the boss. :)

Kaoru: Yeah, that's what I thought.

The older twin breathed in and out. His heart was pounding; behind his collar, his neck was drenched with sweat.

It was so easy, though... So easy, it was unreal. He was probably replying too fast; he probably seemed desperate, but whatever, for once he didn't care.

Kaoru is typing...

Kaoru: Hey Hikaru

Hikaru: hm?

Kaoru: I actually kind of missed talking to you.

Hikaru: oh yeah?

Kaoru: Because you know

Kaoru: I totally get how it makes economic sense, what I told you. Walking probably clears his head and saves him a car, and you don't get rich by spending all your money. That's what Kyouya said about it, anyway. But I like how the first thing you did was laugh. I ended up laughing too when I found out.

Hikaru: haha, yeah :)

Hikaru paused. Never before had those simple lines of text stirred such emotion in him. The thought alone that his brother was safe, alive, talking to him... It was enough; he could have died a happy man, but at the same time he was afraid of the emotion, afraid of the word - afraid to forget what had come between them.

Hikaru: um

The older Hitachiin paused again, fingers shaking.

A part of him didn't believe it, but the fact that Kaoru was responding to him, the soft grey beacon of "Kaoru is typing" lighting up almost right away after he would click "send"... Sure enough, it negated nothing, changed nothing... but in the moment, it would mean the world for him to be able to pretend.

Hikaru: i really missed talking to you too, kaoru

\- he smiled a bit at the rush of goosebumps on his neck. Forgetting even to feel annoyed, he felt a lump in the bottom of his throat, but did nothing about it.

Hikaru: i really did

Kaoru: :)

Hikaru: i mean

i love you still, after all this time - even though i'm not an idiot and i know i have no chance with you after what i'd done. and yet i'm still sitting here, grinning like and idiot.

Hikaru: yeah :)

Hikaru: i just

Hikaru: i don't know. i just missed talking to you. that's all.

Kaoru: I know. :)

Kaoru: I missed talking to you too.

Hikaru: but i have to go right now, is that ok? i really need to get ready for school

Kaoru: Ok :) Have a nice day.

Hikaru: you too

Kaoru: It's not daytime here, though :) It's nighttime. I'm going to bed.

Hikaru: i know :)

Kaoru: Ok, glad you do.

Kaoru: Thanks, Hikaru. :)

Hikaru: hugs?

Kaoru: *all of the hugs*

i love you

Hikaru stared at the skype screen for a few moments, then snapped the computer shut.

The sun had come up, and spilled all over the hardwood floors and canopy bed. For a long time, Hikaru was not able to sleep in the bed, preferring the little couch at its foot instead. Two nights ago, however, he come home with his belly full and collapsed into the bed without a second thought, and the next night he had done the same, sleeping soundly until he had woken up, feeling refreshed as though he had flown to Hawaii or some other edge of the world, and had woken to find his balcony filled with orchids and a breathtaking view of valley down below.

He shook his head, and got up from the table. He'd gotten dressed as he waited for Kaoru - down to the handkerchief in his pocket - only to collapse back into his bed, his limbs suddenly shaking.

He wondered whether Kaoru could guess what this was doing to him - of course he could. He was Kaoru. Even from a world away, he'd probably know that he, Hikaru, would spend the rest of the day walking around ready to break, and there would not be a damned thing anyone could do about it.


	18. Paris in Pictures

Kyouya lay in a heap on his bed, his knees almost at the level of his face, and Noir lay in the cubbyhole of his body. Noir was a long-haired black cat - something Kyouya had not realized immediately, because he had had started out so small that any kind of fur would have been long on him. But Noir was growing quickly, and had become even more affectionate, which served as a solace to Kyouya during the long, pale, grey autumn days.

The house was still, the potted palm with its wide-splayed leaves staring up at the glass panels of the wall. The reflection of something like butterflies - leaves outside, most likely - danced over the headboard of the bed, and the prairie outside was wilting turning to hay - Kyouya saw it every time he walked in the morning to the gate, the wind whistling across it like an moribund, ghostly flute.

Kyouya had not left his bed all day. No, that wasn't true - he had gotten up to walk to the kitchen and had made breakfast - tea with lemons and a piece of toast. He now tried to drink tea with lemon whenever he could, the astringent sourness clearing his mind and reminding him - however briefly - of Kaoru.

It was Sunday, his least favourite day of the week. A day that was free, but also symbolized a definitive cap to freedom in that he could spend whiling away the day into the night, pleasantly avoiding tomorrow and doing the things he found fulfilling in intangible ways. For instance, he really liked taking care of Host Club logistics - more than he should have, he had felt at first - as well as frequenting the fan and roleplay sites of his favorite Korean dramas. In fact, this decided fixation on the dramas from across the sea - which he had found to be better than Japanese dramas, and just about the only TV worth watching - was something most people did not know about him, not even Kaoru. However, a few years back he really had taken up studying Korean as a business venture, and started watching dramas to keep up with his language skills, and before he knew it, the reason he was drinking a double espresso in the morning was not so much his study-fatigue but the fact that he had been up too late watching and discussing the newest releases. Indeed, the only reason Kaoru didn't know about this was the fact in the time the twin had lived at the estate, Kyouya's mind had been somewhere else entirely.

But now, Kyouya did not even want to do that. He was tired - so tired that no matter how much coffee he drank and how much he slept, he still felt like it would take nine out of ten units of energy just to walk over to his desk and open the computer. His deepest, darkest, most intense desire was to look upon a blank page - a whole agenda book full of such blank pages - for all he felt right then was sick and heave, like he had taken poison and was taking too long to die.

Noir had turned on his "motor" and curled up tighter, the fur on his back rising and falling as he breathed. He opened one eye as he felt his master's hand, and flicked one of his ears, momentarily taking out his nose from the donut-center of his body.

Kyouya smiled.

His phone lit up - chirping the arrival of a text message.

[ from: Hikaru ]

[txt] No, why?

And, it was right back to feeling sick again.

An hour earlier, Kyouya had sent Hikaru a text - though perhaps it ought to have been an email, or an INVITATION to talk in person. He had asked him if he thought Kaoru's friendship with Helene Tonnerre was at all concerning, and once again, the reply had made him feel crazy.

But of course, perhaps he was crazy - or at least, the possibility ought not have been excluded.

He had tried to maintain his composure as he chatted away with Kaoru the first weekend they were apart - the latter telling him gleefully that students at St. Germain des Pres had just as much free time on their counterparts at Ouran did, and all the adventures they had been having. But Kyouya had also thanked whatever powers there were that it had been a chat and not a video call, for he had had to get up multiple times during the talk and paced the room just to calm himself.

Because - he typed back to Hikaru right then - I am not convinced the Tonnerres have given up their ambitions in Japan. It's a trifly suspicious, don't you think? That she had sought him out the very first day he was there, and made a point of incorporating him into her entourage? Civility is fine, friendship even, but an innocent fetishization of a foreign boy by a high-school girl - no way will I BUY it; no way will I even rent it

He paused. Having typed it out certainly made him feel better - but the words looked paranoid, even manic on the screen, and he knew it wouldn't do - it wouldn't do at all...

And yet?

And yet: this was another thing that nobody knew about him, but the very name Tonnerre gave Kyouya painful, visceral pangs. When Kaoru had first texted him about Helene, he'd felt so bad he had needed to lie down - and indeed he had, after first typing out the word "Careful"and sending it to Kaoru, his fingers cramping as if he was dehydrated and sick with the flu. He had even considered calling Fuyumi, but had dissuaded himself, for she was now expecting a child, and he did not like to worry her.

When the feelings had let up, he was unsurprised to find that Kaoru, too, had not known that the Tonnerres had another daughter.

My sources told me Eclair was the only one - he had typed to Kaoru during the initial conversation, even as he was already in another window, searching up a storm.

And as it turned out, Helene did in fact exist, and was a year younger than the twins almost exactly. She was a little like Tamaki - either illegitimate, adopted, or both - but unlike Tamaki, she was not the only child and neither was she a male, which meant that in matters of succession she didn't count... or did she?

He quickly deleted the text.

No reason, simply a hunch - he typed. But I think we both ought to try to get as much information as we can out of Kaoru about Helene. It cannot hurt - given past events.

Send.

He hoped Hikaru wouldn't read into it too much. In fact, he probably wouldn't: Hikaru was the sort of person who would assume that Kyouya was being Kyouya, and go on his merry way - which, rationally speaking, was something that he, Kyouya, would have done well to do himself. After all - he wasn't in France, he didn't know Helene, he only had Kaoru's side of the story: which could have meant that this was nothing at all, just a case of friendships cropping up like mushrooms after a rain, which was often the case with study abroad experiences...

At any rate, he knew his triggers were his own. He had no right to foist them on another. And yet, a part of him was already racing ahead, weighing the pros and cons and how to best broach the topic of a visit.

...

"Hikaru, will you put your phone down," Haruhi snapped, pursing her lips and dotting the end of a sentence so hard it broke the end of her pencil. "I am not doing the whole assignment on my own again."

The fact that phones were not allowed in class was, of course, not up for discussion - everyone used them anyway - but Haruhi was steadily growing more frustrated with her partners in french class. She had been stuck with Momoka Kurakano and Hikaru all semester - but Momoka, no natural herself, had developed health problems that led to being absent every other day, and trying to get Hikaru to do anything was about as effective as performing a rain-dance in the middle of the Sahara.

"It's three-thirty in the morning over there, on a schoolnight. He's not going to text you now."

"I don't know," replied Hikaru, a wry smile splayed over his features. "Kaoru's always up at weird hours. He's talked to me at 2 a.m. one time..."

Haruhi snatched the phone away.

"Hey, what the hell are you -?!"

But she was too fast for him. Tossing a derisive look his way - the look that read "Damn you rich people" that she was so good at, she held on fast to the phone and flipped through the gallery of pictures.

There were at least a fifty saved already - all from the last several days. Shopping arcades that could have been museum-halls, the fountains of Versailles, a brilliant shot of Apollo in his sun-chariot with the actual sun rising behind him and Kaoru contemplating by turns a marble statue and a very small macaron...

Pictures, cliches - she tried to tell herself. He's reproducing cliches - starring himself, ironically perhaps - but then again, she understood the need. Between all the things her classmates took for granted - from second homes different parts of the world, to excellent professors, to packets whose contents Haruhi didn't want to contemplate changing hands in the back of a room, it was nice to know that there were still desires that were pure and simple, such as the time Tamaki Suoh had played commoner children's games in the yard until it got dark.

Her fingers paused over the final picture - a photo of Kaoru, with his shock of red hair, in the middle of a triptych of himself and two other girls, one very dark and the other very pale. They were both dressed Lolita fashion, and the photo had been taken in front of a large, somber granite door.

Haruhi still didn't know what had happened between the brothers, but all of a sudden one day, Hikaru had begun to act like his phone was a small child. Every time it made a noise, he would jump up and look at it like a man possessed. He would also check it ten times every hour, but since he looked well and happy, Haruhi had decided not to press - until right then.

"I'm keeping this" - she glanced over her shoulder to let him know that neither a set of puppy dog eyes nor other theatrics were going to work. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to get so wrapped up in technology. You said so yourself: you and Kaoru need to learn more independence, and I think you need to rejoin the land of the living for a bit."

...

"So, Helene, is there a particular reason why we're here today?"

Kaoru had paused at a crossroads between paths, glancing at the signpost that looked like a weather-vane against the sky. The rain settled in a fine mist over his face, and the breeze carried the smell of moss and stone as they made their way through the Rippongi - or Manhattan - of death: the Pere Lachaise cemetery, where everyone who was anyone and had died in Paris had been buried, and where the real estate was so tight that the mausoleums seemed literally to be elbowing each other out of the way.

Helene, the more he got to know her, seemed to be like a ridiculous puzzle: a perfect caricature of herself who seemed determined to be living a life-as-art, but in schlockiest way possible.

At school, she would play the part of the queen flawlessly - perfect in look and manner, her voice soft, her walk erect, her opinion on the latest accessories, gossip, TV shows, and the perfect place to have tea off the beaten bath delivered in a laconic, cool, and pleasant style and taken for gospel by the 15-year-olds who lived for next season's camelia-encrusted collections from Chanel, vacations in Aruba, and the attention of the "right" soccer-playing boys. Men also dropped everything they were doing when she passed - even the staunchest of card-gamblers who exchanged thousands of Euros in the hallways during breaks - and wherever she went, a trail of silence and deference followed. In private, however, Kaoru often wondered how she had become queen, for she was quirky and gleefully impish, and seemed to be going out of her way to appear to be so.

For instance - Helene, as Kaoru found out - kept a blog where she posted her photoshoots around Paris, and it seemed that she had collected her entourage specifically for that purpose. She had Aloise powder her face with the whitest powder, dressed her up in white Lolita and Nouaia in black, and seemed to view every situation as a photo-op in a way that would have put a Japanese tourist to shame. She shot trips to nail parlors and powder rooms - never hesitating to drag even Kaoru inside; she shot much stranger activities like group viewings of television shows to capture people's reactions; she even shot an afternoon of walking around Place des Fetes with a camera strapped to her back so her readers would be the first to see - and now, she was promenading merrily along the drunken paths of the Pere Lachaise, and Kaoru was hurrying along carrying the monstrous Nikon bag.

"Well, technically we come here every month," Nouaia answered for her - her voice, as usual, characterized by a languid equanimity and a deep mezzo timbre. She had just caught up, and had paused to catch her breath, resting one hand on her knee and the other on Kaoru's elbow.

Kaoru exhaled slightly, trying to hide his sigh.

They were all so touchy here. On the second day of their acquaintance, not only had Helene given him air-kisses on both cheeks, but she had taken him squarely under the arm as they left school. It had given him to start at first, but in the end he decided that when in Rome, it would not do to struggle.

"Yes, that's right," added Aloise, who had also caught up, tottering on her heels. She was the shortest girl of the three, but seemed determined not to let this get the best of her. "It's actually something of a duty for us, as handmaidens. We have to do the pilgrimage. There was a Russian girl in entourage a little while back, Irene - nice redhead - but she got kicked out because she was afraid of corpses."

Kaoru did his best to keep his face from expressing the feeling one got from waking up suddenly in a mental institution.

"Corpses?" he ventured, trying to train his voice into a nonchalant key. "But all the corpses here are pretty much dust by now, aren't they?"

"Yes - or ashes, in the mausoleums." Nouaia shrugged her slender, bony shoulders that were the perfect image of a human clothing-rack. She had a slightly different way of speaking - a swinging lilt to her speech that Kaoru could not overlook even though he was new to the nuances of accents in French.

"But she just kept getting more and more uneasy every time she came here," added Aloise. "It was interfering with Helene's photoshoots, so something had to give. I think her parents transferred her to different school, in England. Her dad was a member of the Russian parliament, so they all basically pick a country in Europe to live in and fly back and forth to work and visit their families on the weekends."

But Kaoru wasn't even listening anymore - it wasn't so much that he didn't care about the gossip or why another member of the group was cast aside; rather, aside from the general tinge of insanity that was quickly coloring the whole thing, one word had stuck out to him: "redhead." It also didn't help matters that Aloise had the same expressionless, inflectionless voice that she always did, as if nothing mattered enough to even move her jaw.

Helene stood with her arms crossed, proud chin pointing up and her taffeta-clad figure under the umbrella exuding a sterling impetus that would have launched more ships, ounce for ounce, than the face of her Trojan counterpart.

"Ahem, that's enough chitchat!" she commented in a tone that straddled - deftly - the divide between not taking one's self too seriously and daring those hearing to disobey. "We still have a lot to do - so no stopping until I say so."

"But Aloise's heels," Nouaia pointed out her friend's platforms. "And cobblestones."

Helene gave a half-smile, and with benevolent sweep of the arm, extracted a pouch out of the belly of her purse.

"Flats. Soft ones" - her voice was just as imperious, but a smile had slipped into her eyes. "Hurry up. I think you'll survive looking miniature for a few minutes."

As she turned once more to continue down the path, Kaoru hung back, waiting for Aloise to unstrap her chopines from her ankles and stooping to hold on to her umbrella as she did so.

"Er, Aloise," he ventured once Helene's back had receded sufficiently far. "And you too, Nouaia, can I ask you guys something?"

Aloise glanced up, her pale face a stark, exquisite contrast to the densely packed Necropolis. Nouaia raised her eyebrows as well - the tall, protruding lids moving little in the process.

"What I'd like to know is - how exactly did you become part of this... entourage? I mean... doesn't the whole thing strike you as a little weird?"

"Weird, how exactly?" asked the handsome Masai.

"Mm, I don't know, I just..."

Kaoru let his gaze glance over Aloise's girlish body, her waist pulled tight by the lace-trimmed corset, and held out his hand to accept the pair of chopines.

"I mean, doesn't it seem to you that the two of you... and maybe me, too - that we were chosen for our... appearance?"

Both girls began to walk, eyes fixed directly in front of them. For a second, it seemed like Kaoru's words had not been heard.

"Well, yes" - Nouaia finally replied. "I think we're both aware of that."

Well, hah. Laconic as always.

"And it doesn't... bother you?"

"No, not particularly."

"I mean, it makes sense," added Aloise. "Everything that happens in our world happens for a reason, and a lot of the time that reason is beauty. Helene is beautiful, and so she is the queen - that's just how it is. The beautiful girls are the popular ones. If you're beautiful, it can open all the doors. For instance, Miss de la Fer's mother was a commoner, but she was a super-model, so it doesn't matter. And Miss de la Fer is second only to Helene in beauty - just like her father would have wanted, and I think that's something everyone knows as well."

"And yet Miss de la Fer isn't part of this entourage and you are. Could it be that she just doesn't fit Helene's artistic vision?"

Aloise shrugged. Her voice, robotic as always, mirrored her movements.

"I guess it could be."

"And it doesn't... bother you?"

No answer followed.

"I mean," Kaoru floundered for words, "What I mean is - and maybe there's something I don't understand, but what do you get out of it? It seems terribly one-sided. And maybe it's me, maybe I don't speak French as well as I thought, but honestly I've felt like nothing but an object this entire time - do this, don't do that, stand here, don't stand there - and now I learn there was a token foreign redhead in the group before. I mean, that's bound to make you feel something, no?"

He paused, breathing quickly. He wasn't sure why he'd gotten so worked up - but perhaps the silence of the girls against the cries of the birds and the patter of the rain was making him angrier than it should have.

He thought back to Tamaki; he thought back to the Host Club. There, too, everyone had been recruited for their "type," but it had been to please the guests, whereas here Helene didn't seem to be performing for anyone but herself.

Aloise flicked up her eyelashes - long and dense, and barely letting in the light.

"You're wrong," Nouaia said simply.

"We both have things that tie us to Helene," Aloise added. "Things that go beyond appearances. We care for her, and our job is to look after her."

"Your job?"

Aloise nodded.

"Helene has a family - they select people for her, based on criteria they research. The Helene herself selects the people that she wants out of the group."

"Yes, and it's a very small group."

"So, you hang out with her because of her family?"

"Not exactly; it's ultimately up to us. But you were selected, too."

"I was?"

"Yes."

"But how? Based on what?"

Nouaia raised an eyebrow, and Aloise seemed to lose herself for a moment.

"Well, here's the thing. We can't tell you," she replied. "Not right away, anyway. But maybe you'll find out for yourself, and maybe Helene will tell you, and then you can decide for yourself whether you want to stay or go."

Kaoru clenched a fist in his pocket.

But how the hell am I supposed to -

He let out a puff of air from the side of his mouth instead.

"I see," he said. "So you help her. What with?"

"Well, it's no so much that we help her as we look out for her," Aloise replied.

"Like bodyguards?"

"That's right. Except we have more in common with her, so the idea is we can understand her."

And, they had come full-circle.

What do you have in common - but something told him Aloise wouldn't answer. She seemed like an empty shell: both of them did, two guardians standing at the threshold of a gate that led to nowhere.

And the funny thing was - ordinarily, he would not have cared, but right then he felt crazed with frustration, with only two lonely, virtual strings tying him back to everything he knew.

He felt a painful urge to call Kyouya. Kyouya would know what to do. Either that, or squat down by the side of the path and vomit his guts out.

Aloise seemed to feel consternation, and put her thumb and forefinger in a ring around his wrist.

Kaoru tried to gather himself.

"Your - father was an English earl, is that right?" - he bullied his lips into forming the words as a bird let loose a cry in the foliage above.

Aloise flared her nostrils a bit.

"Yes, that's right."

"But it's just you and your servants these days?" - he recalled the information Kyouya had collected - and he himself had corroborated - on the two "Accessories." Whenever they dropped Aloise off at her house, the windows were always dim, and she only ever referenced her two servants, Hannah and Claude.

"Yes."

"And what about your mother, if you don't mind me asking?"

Aloise lowered her eyes, and seemed to scrutinize the moss between the stones.

"I don't think I ever knew my mother" - she answered, her voice flatter than before. "She died before I knew her, and for a while, a lot of stuff happened that I don't recall."

Helene had come to an abrupt halt, and was looking upward. The twin corroborated with his map and, sure enough, the word "Balzac" was gravely emblazoned in the granite.

A few moments had passed in Helene silently contemplating the word, and then she turned to the others with the air of a schoolteacher or a generalissimus.

"Aloise" - she pointed with the back of her hand - her pointer-finger extended slightly but not in the direction of the arch. "You stand on the right, please, and Nouaia, on the left. Nouaia, you be looking up, with just your eyes, looking at the name, and Aloise, be demurely flattering your skirt over your thighs - and Kaoru -"

But Kaoru had put down the Nikon and the shoes on a stump granite and was walking away, his shoulderblades moving under his sport coat as he swung his arms. And it wasn't until he had reached the end of the row of tombs, huddling like a set of birdhouses under the rain, that he heard his name along with a set of footsteps: kitten heels - one pair.

Helene caught up with him and seized him by the sleeve, forcing him to stop.

"Kaoru! Where are you going? A-are you uncomfortable with cemeteries?"

Kaoru sighed - he needed time to hide the corrosive element in his voice.

"No, Helene" - he made a point of turning around. "I'm not like Irene if that's what you're thinking. I actually kind of like cemeteries - "

"Then what are you doing? Come on back -"

But Kaoru had not turned around - had made a point not to - and was staring at the grass beneath his feet.

He found himself smiling, unwillingly. Despite the general awkwardness - despite the fact that he'd realized it wasn't quite a him-thing to do, he still liked Helene a little better this way. It made things... easier when she was on her own and not with her courtiers.

"I'm sorry, Helene. I just -"

He didn't want to turn around. Didn't want to see the beautiful, glassy-eyed doll-face that Helene always made up when she was telling everyone about a scheme... Though beautiful to the point of forgettability, if there was one thing that was unusual about her face, then it was the peculiar stamp of youthfulness that was sure to make her a very young-looking old lady.

He turned.

"I just..."

He sighed. There was no easy way to put it, was there? But maybe it was better to be direct - after all, he wasn't in Japan anymore.

"Look, Helene," he said, licking his lips. "It just seems to me that you're doing things just to seem edgier than you are, you know? I mean, taking pictures in a cemetery? Taking pictures you don't even see behind your back? Using every little thing in your life as an excuse for a photo opp? I mean, it's fine if that's what you wanna do, but I can think of other ways to spend my afternoon, you know?"

He bit his lip. The words did not come out as crass-sounding as he feared - and to her credit, Helene did not look like she was going to cry. Rather, she clasped her arms in front of her skirt making two right angles, and Kaoru found it almost disconcerting how her consternation had made him want to smile.

"Am I right?" - he ventured, peering into Helene's stolid, pointer face. "No offense, but I don't really see you as a disciple of Balzac. Oscar Wilde, maybe - you seem to respond pretty well to some of the wittier things I say. But to the best of my knowledge, no one reads the Comedie Humaine unless they're being beaten - so you understand what I'm trying to say?"

As he spoke, he watched Helene's famous queenliness seep out of her pores, and as he finished, his lips jerked in a quiet triumph. Helene looked a great deal smaller than she had done before, and the whoosh-whoosh of the wheels of cars continued over the distant parapet.

"I take pictures so I don't forget things," Helene replied quietly. "Is that really so bad? I tend to forget things a lot, and it scares me - that's all."

"Everyone forgets things, though. That's part of life, or am I wrong?"

"No, not like me they don't."

It was Kaoru's turn to pause. Helene was looking at the ground, her figure a sagging candle against a tapestry of grey and green. The rain, Kaoru noticed, had turned the hair at the top of forehead into a row of small, puffy ringlets.

"I don't understand," he said. "You seem to do pretty well in school - or at least according to the ranking boards you do. I mean, it's in human nature to forget things. Even if you tend to forget things a little faster or a little more often than other people, wouldn't it be better to just enjoy the moment instead of worrying about how you're going to document it all?"

But Helene abruptly shook her head. A few moments passed, and Kaoru had about made up his mind to go when she had opened up her mouth again.

"Kaoru, I" - she paused for a moment, smoothing one lip cautiously over the other so as to not displace the lipstick - "Kaoru, I did read a lot of Balzac back in the day." Her voice was quiet, a little more velvety - the way it always got when she was in more intimate circles. "It was a long time ago, when I was about five years old. I had escaped to the library because I was having a bad day. I hid there so that nobody would find me, and ended up crying for a bit, and that's when I discovered Monsieur Balzac."

The twin raised his eyebrows and Helene continued, smoothing her lip one over the other between words.

"It was a room people where hardly ever went. One of those decorative libraries people always have. I hid under some stairs, and I pulled out the first book I reach, and began to read - and you know, you're right... Sometimes it did seem really boring, and the only thing that kept me going was how accomplished I felt when I read up to a picture. But you know, even though I didn't understand a lot, I still really liked it, and still kept coming back, even when things weren't as bad."

She gave a small chuckle, and raised a hand to her lips.

"And yes - a lot of the time, I didn't even know what I was reading - I just read. I didn't know why people said the things they said, or did the things they did, and a lot of the time it didn't make sense why some things were a big deal but not others. But then I read about the author's life -" She smiled, and shrugged her shoulders in a diffident way.

Kaoru couldn't help but grin.

"No way, you really did that? At five?"

The Queen's alabaster brow tented.

"Why, is it so hard to believe? I mean, like I said, I didn't understand a whole lot, but I don't look like the girl who's never opened anything except Harper's Bazaar in her life, do I?"

"Well, no..."

Some tourists, in trench coats, appeared at the end of the path, and Kaoru stepped aside to let them pass.

Helene parried the answer with a brisk nod.

"Exactly - so DON'T presume to know," she said. "These days, I consider Honore de Balzac is a good friend. Now, with that said he might be the weird old friend - the one with the collections of insects under glass and the one who talks in long Autistic monologues. But he's still a friend, and I still enjoy his company, just like I enjoy the company of Oscar Wilde -"

Helene paused again, evidently suppressing an urge to flick her tongue over her lips, and Kaoru deemed this a proper moment to cut in.

"So why not just tell me?" he ventured cautiously. "I mean, it's really not that weird."

Helene's smile turned to the impish one she had on the first day, when they met over the cheesecake.

"Well, I don't know - why not just ask me?" she reparteed with a laugh. "I mean, you are the one who started to walk away without even saying anything. I don't think you have any room to talk."

...

When Kaoru came home later that day - with strict instructions to come dressed for a "Take me to Church"-themed photo shoot the following morning - there was a large bouquet waiting for him on in the foyer. He did not notice it at first - for it was large and yellow and fit in seamlessly with the decor of the room - but Madame Lilith had followed him right on his heels, and was just undoing her scarf and shuffling though letters as his gaze fell upon it.

"That's a very nice bouquet," she commented, casting a one-eyed glance in the direction of the boy. "It got here earlier this afternoon, for you."

Kaoru's concerns about Helene assuaged if not completely muted, he worked to maintain his composure as he searched for a "to" and "from" tag on the gift.

"Did you have a nice time with your friends?"

Ah-ha. From K.O.

"I did," Kaoru replied, lips stretching into an unwilling smile.

As always, Kyouya was eloquent in his choice of words: yellow zinnia for daily remembrance, forsythia for anticipation, camelias in red, pink, and white for all manner of affection and luck, and - what's this... stephanotis for a desire to travel?

Well, at least it wasn't a dozen long-stemmed roses - Kaoru chuckled to himself - but already, the warmth was rising to his cheeks, so he glanced at Lady Lilith, who had paused with a stack of letters in each hand.

"Would you like to have them taken to your room? They're yours after all."

She was a remarkably calm woman, but something in her voice -

What, no, never mind - yet still, he couldn't get his mind off Kyouya taking a seat in his new room on his new bed; Kyouya arriving through that very door, with pet carrier containing Noir in hand...

"They smell lovely by all means, but they are yours. It's up to you."

But Kaoru shook his head.

"No. No - I think they look a lot better right here," he said, insistently and with a smile.


	19. No More Flowers

[Kaoru Hitachiin: DRAFTS]

4:33 a.m.; +1 GMT

Dear Kyouya,

You know that awkward moment when your INTJ boyfriend has an easier time showing his feelings than you?

Anyway, I'm feeling that way now. Like I don't really know what's going on inside my own head, and I know where I should go from here. I know you can give me what I want, so I'm not sure why I keep running away. For some reason, it's almost like the thought of happiness makes me want to run away… Like I don't think I deserve it, and like maybe the happiness is a cloak for something else…

P.S: Monsieur Martin is taking me on a tour of the perfume factory next week. I'm going to learn about how perfumes are made, and even meet some "Noses," who are the people who develop the perfumes. I mean, he's still kind of a creep, and yeah, you're right, he does look like he fucked my mother back in the day -- but that's just part of life, I guess. He's still pretty useful as a business mentor.

…

Kaoru sat in his powder-blue bedroom underneath his blankets, listening to the tail-end of the Rastignacs' luncheon. Five times, they had made the assignation to meet when one side of the world had already seen the sun set, and the other's day was just beginning.

Five times, he had felt this flutter in the pit of his stomach, waiting like a schoolgirl at the end of a hall. One hundred and thirty times was the exact number of times he had re-read Kyouya's letters; eight times he had grasped himself under the covers, moaning his lover's name, and this time, he had tried as best he could to remain stoic as he waited for Kyouya to materialize, but he still couldn't suppress the stretching of his lips into the biggest, dopiest grin imaginable.

Kyouya's face appeared, pixels melting into the contours of his face, and Kaoru covered up the smile -- instinctively -- with his hands.

It felt a little strange, this whole affection thing -- like getting out of bed after a long, draining illness. But boy, did it ever feel good.

Kyouya fixed his glasses on his nose, flashing a small smile as well. Behind him, it was dark, but Kaoru could make out contours of his closet.

"Glasses still ill-fitting, I see," Kaoru chuckled, wrapping his shoulders tighter in the blanket. "When are you going to get some new ones?"

Kyouya punctuated the gesture with a noncommittal shrug.

"Well, if they fit, I wouldn't need to adjust them, would I? We all need a mannerism; this is mine."

"True." Kaoru smiled. "And everyone's mannerisms say something about them. Yours, for instance, says that really like hiding from the world. I just thought you wouldn't want to hide from me."

Kyouya cast a careful look over the corners of the screen.

"Well, you are right," he said. "I am the Shadow King, after all -- hiding in plain sight is what I do. However, I wouldn't take it quite so personally. With you, it's simply an attempt to look my best -- and also to shield my eyes from the effects of the computer screen."

Kaoru smiled again, and rocked his body back and forth, settling higher on the headboard.

They both seemed to know what the other was going to say next -- the simple call and response that began every conversation now -- and yet the wonderful thing was, it did not make their interactions boring. To Kaoru, at least, it made the apples of his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard -- just like they might have done if he were on a first date staring into the other's eyes, living over and over the remnants of a pleasant memory.

It was the Shadow King's turn to smile.

"So I take it you that liked my present -- considering I'm not fired yet?"

Kaoru nodded -- contentedly and emphatically.

"Yes, Senpai, I did," he replied. "Though to be honest, I thought subtlety was your strong suit."

Kyouya raised his eyebrows.

"What, more subtle still? I can't imagine."

Kaoru chuckled again, adjusting his laptop so that it was folded flatter against his thighs, and he himself was folded up in the attitude of a pretzel. Senpai was a term of endearment he had begun using when they got back to the Ootori mansion -- and right then, Kaoru felt the utmost pleasure from watching Kyouya smile, for though he was just a collection of pixels, he still had a way of letting his smile slip into his eyes when he was being genuine.

"Why, yes, of course you couldn've been more subtle," Kaoru repeated. 

And that's exactly what makes this so hard to say --

He adjusted the pillows behind his back, taking a moment to gather himself.

They had, after all, reached a point in their relationship where to hide things like this was not fruitful.

"Because, you know," he said, turning back. "This whole thing -- the flowers, the 'darling,' the chivalrous drive to protect me from everyone and everything -- that's all very nice, but it doesn't take a genius. I know what you really want deep down inside, and I get it, believe me, I do. A lot of things would've been easier if I were --"

"What? Kaoru -- that was not my intent at all. All I wanted was to cater to your interest in Victorian flower etiquette…"

But Kaoru smiled again, the almonds of his eyes resplendently victorious.

"No, Kyouya. It's alright. Really. And maybe it's just my own insecurity, but I had to say it. I mean, I wish I could feel better about liking flowers, but you understand, in context…"

Kyouya pressed his lips. 

"Alright. No more flowers." 

Shrugging, he pushed his glasses up his nose.

Kaoru pressed his lips together too.

"No… That's not really what I --"

He let out a breath.

The pixels of Kyouya's face were silent, waiting… Urbane yet stoic -- but altogether, kind.

"I'm glad you understand, Senpai."

Kyouya smiled.

"Alright. But I have a question for you, Kaoru." 

Kaoru swallowed. "Sure. Anything."

"Well, what I want to know is, do you like the way I treat you?"

Kaoru hesitated -- but before he was fully aware, his lips had formed the word.

"Yes." 

"Well, good." The Shadow King sat back. "Because I hate to be cliche, but that's the only thing that matters. I mean, I apologize if I was boxing you in a certain way, but socially speaking, gay women aren't "women" and gay men aren't "men." Now, that may seem a bit strange, but it also leaves the queer community well positioned to carve out their own identity: to take what they want from the mainstream culture and to leave the rest. That's the conclusion I've come to, anyway, doing some reading on the topic. So honestly, I've been doing this because I want to, not because I feel I must… And I am truly sorry if I haven't made my reasons clear enough…"

…

"Kaoru, would you mind? Go up and see what's going on. She's not answering her phone."

The Entourage, minus Aloise, was sitting in the back of Helene's car, motor running.

Kaoru looked at Helene across the way.

Ever since her confession at the Pere Lachaise cemetery, nothing had really changed between them. In fact, Kaoru was still hard-pressed to believe anything she’d said: it sounded too zero-to-sixty, too much like a forced confession, too much like a stylized spectacle not far removed from all the things she did every day. And yet he still continued to see her, still continued to put up with her puppyish quirks – like the way she had seized his arms, and had kissed him on both cheeks when he had come over to Tonnerres’ mansion for tea – an experience in itself… Or the day she had held a dramatic reading party of her favorite Edith Wharton works, and had ended up sitting on the floor gazing at the sky outside the balcony, leaving Kaoru with the bulk of the actual hosting…

If he had any feelings for her, it might at least have made sense. But he scoured every corner of his heart, and found himself still loyal to Kyouya. Indeed, if he didn’t really know her, how could he even like her? She still was a collection of quirks, a constellation of posturings… But perhaps therein lay the rub. In his heart of hearts, he knew he could not accept things as they were. It all seemed far too blindingly familiar.

Kaoru glanced down at Nouaia's feet, which were not clad in 15-centimeter chopines that day. Helene's facial expression, however, was such a combination of "have a heart" and "this is my expectation -- anything else will shatter my conception of the world," that Kaoru thought it best not to speak against it. He was, after all, the man of the group, the the slew of carefully selected governesses had trained him well.

And so with a well-tempered sigh, he smiled. All things in Helene's world ran according to a scrupulously premeditated schedule, and any deviation from the determined course could result in a "penalty" -- most often in the form of sweets or costly trinket offerings -- levied on all concerned.

Helene glanced down at her watch -- today a splendid piece in burnished gold complementing her trenchcoat. She pursed her lips into a small, bowtie knot.

"Will do, my queen," Kaoru nodded, giving a small, half-ironic bow from where he sat. Whatever her other flaws, Kaoru was starting to think of Helene as rather cute, and so he was no longer in the habit of begrudging her most favors. "A bit of exercise couldn't hurt, after all."

Outside, the sky was coming down in a light autumn drizzle. The building where Aloise lived, a Haussmanian immeuble , looked like the pale-gray hulk of an ocean liner, coming out of the mist.

Aloise never invited anyone to her apartment. The way they picked her up had always been like this -- they would wait for her under her windows, and within a few minutes' time, she would come running out. Inside the staircase shaft, Kaoru's footsteps echoed up and down the well-worn granite landings: he had decided to skip the old birdcage of the elevator -- for all the kilograms of sweets he had consumed with Helene were starting to demand penance.

He stopped, panting, opposite the door. Number 52, just as the placquard at the entryway had said. Briefly, Kaoru had a wave of altered reality testing -- he was getting them quite often these days. For instance, it was still strange that a good number of people -- all very rich -- still lived in relatively small condos in the city-center. Most had a family chateau or a villa in the Antilles of the Mediterranean, but how much time they spent there was very variable.

He pressed doorbell.

A series of chimes reverberated deep inside the house.

He waited. 

And waited.

He glanced at his watch, and pressed the doorbell again.

After all, Aloise may have simply had a wardrobe disaster -- or maybe she had lost her phone, and was searching all over the house, tripping over piles of clothing and little picnic-spots of makeup on the floor...

Or perhaps she was sick -- or someone else was sick, and she had gone to the hospital only to have her battery run out…

Kaoru pressed again, this time a more urgently, and when no answer came, he brought his ear up to the door.

He rang a fourth time. 

This time, the door opened up immediately -- just a crack -- and the appearance of a thin, darkly olive face made him take an unwilling step back.

"Yes?" 

"Er --"

It was odd -- the woman was most probably a maid: the bonnet and the ruffled skirt could not have been anything else. And yet the way she looked at him, the way her gaze seemed to be saying "why on earth are you even speaking to me" --

Kaoru straightened his collar and rolled his shoulders, trying to dispel the tightness in his throat.

"I -- er -- I'm one of Miss Trancy's friends," he said. "Kaoru Hitachiin. And I -- er -- we -- I mean, some of her other friends and I, we had a plan to go to Reims, but it seems she's running a little late, and I was wondering if we could be of help --"

The maid measured Kaoru with a frosty look.

"I don't think she can come today."

"Oh, is that right?…"

If Kaoru had been in a place where he was more comfortable, he might have put his foot in the door as the maid started to close it -- but unfortunately, the landing of Aloise's apartment was not that place.

"No, wait -- sorry," he forced his voice out of his throat. "Miss, what's your name?"

Miraculously, it was enough to stay the door. The maid rewarded him with a glance of eyes too blue for her face, and looked more unimpressed than she had done before.

"Er -- um" -- Kaoru floundered at the silence, "I mean -- Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, but can I at least ask if she's alright? If she's too sick, or if something's come up, perhaps there is something we can do?"

"Yes, sir, I will certainly let her know that -- Now will there be anything else?"

Kaoru hesitated. The maid was about to shut the door, when a loud crash reverberated through the hall. 

A loud crash -- and a hysterical, high-pitched screaming.

…

"Aloise? Are you in there?"

The woman -- whose name was, incidentally, Hannah Annafellowes, Aloise's senior maid -- had, after the first bout of screaming, attempted to shut the door in Kaoru's face, but Kaoru got his foot in the crack and pushed doggedly inward. After a few moments of wrestling, the woman gave up, standing back and with a defiant look crossing her arms over her chest. The chain had remained in place, staying the Hitachiin twin's progress, and the two stared at each other, Kaoru's expression much like the one his brother might have had in that situation.

Finally, a man appeared at the end of the hall.

"Mr. Hitachiin, I presume?"

The boy nodded briskly.

"Claude Faustus, Mlle Trancy's butler." The man bowed. "How may I be of service?"

Kaoru quickly explained the situation, and much to Hannah's chagrin, the door was uncoupled from the slide-chain, and Kaoru stepped in, following the man into the drawing room. He took his shoes off, leaving them at the marble rack against the wall, and took in his surroundings: there were many brilliant purples, golds, and reds, and the butler, he had noticed, was wearing a bright golden monocle, his hair tousled in a way that was in countervention to his tailored waistcoat.

Aloise was sitting in the middle of the floor, her legs twisted under her like a marionette's. Around her, there were the remnants of a porcelain service -- twelve place settings: saucers, dinner plates and cups. 

Kaoru surveyed the room, its candelabras shining bright against the light coming from without, and cautiously approached Aloise, lowering himself down to the floor. Claude remained where he was -- standing in the doorway.

"Aloise?" Kaoru leaned forward, trying to get a better look at her face. "Aloise, what's wrong?"

The girl's lips quivered, looking ashen. Her face was red -- her nose in particular -- and a faint whimpering was coming from her throat. 

Kaoru glanced back at Claude. 

"What happened to her?"

The butler shrugged. 

"I was remiss in my duties, it would seem."

"REMISS MY BUTT!"

Kaoru whipped back around -- but apparently not quickly enough, for one of the cups that was still intact had shattered violently against the wall, fragments ricocheting off a marble bust and scattering against a bookshelf.

"THREE YEARS WORKING FOR ME AND YOU STILL DON'T KNOW THAT I DON'T. BLOODY. LIKE. PERSIMMONS! YOU CAN STOP OFFERING ME PERSIMMONS, I HATE PERSIMMONS!!!"

Kaoru ducked just quickly enough to dodge a dinner plate -- or, more aptly, what remained of one after its edges had been broken off. It soared over his head, past Claude -- who hardly winced, and shattered against the molding of the doorframe.

"Shh, shh, Aloise --" Kaoru tried to reach for her hands, but Aloise pulled away and scrambled back like a frightened animal.

"You don't care about me," she sobbed. "You don't care about me at all…" 

Kaoru bit his lip.

The fact that he was out of his depth was decidedly an understatement. Not only did it still feel like there was a constant veil of uncertainty between him and everything that was going on, but now he had the distinct sensation of having woken up in a madhouse.

"Aloise, I…" he raised his hands, and glanced back at Claude. "We ought to get some of this cleaned up," he whispered. "Get some of the broken pieces away from her."

The butler clicked his heels, nodded, and swept out of the room.

Kaoru turned back to Aloise, who had now buried her face in both hands, and was wailing at the top of her lungs.

"I told him -- I don't -- like -- persimmons!" She struggled to her feet, and began taking off her shoes -- white Mary Janes, to match her pearly stockings. "He NEVER. NOTICES. ANYTHING -- He DOESN'T -- REMEMBER -- OR CARE -- ABOUT ANYTHING! It's like I'm the one who's always trying to get HIS attention --"

Her shoes successfully off, she began to strip off her stockings.

"And to think -- I didn't eat for a week one time, and he didn't say ANYthing! He NEVER takes an interest in me -- he NEVER asks me how I'm doing!"

Claude appeared in the doorway again, brush and dustpan in hand, and Aloise gave him a glowering stare. She raised one foot -- dangling it over the mess of shards, but Kaoru had regained control just in time, and had managed to scramble to his feet, catching her under her arms and pulling her away.

Aloise thrashed for a moment, but fell limp almost immediately, disintegrating into sobs.

Claude approached the wreckage without a word, and knelt to the floor. Kaoru listened to the swish-swish of his brush against the wood. 

"Shh, shh, shh…" He hugged the girl tighter. "It's okay… It will be okay."

A month had passed -- it was tempting to think that they knew each other by now, and that it wasn't strange, them standing this way, her body pressed against his. But it also had been too long since he had been this close to someone, so he couldn't help --

No, never mind. He had bigger fish to fry.

Aloise was sobbing more profusely now, sobs heaving out like lava. The sounds of several more voices carried faintly from across the hall, and Kaoru felt his consciousness flicker. 

"Shh, shh," he repeated, soothing now he knew not who.

Aloise fluttered like a caged bird, shaking her head. She made another attempt to break away, but her head dropped down, looking like the mopped top of a doll's wig.

"Come on," Kaoru took her wrists, turning her around. "Let's go sit down." He steered her gently toward the couch, and sat her down. Aloise slumped down limply as she did, burying her face a cushion.

Kaoru knelt by the side of the cough, taking her hands in his.

"Aloise. Tell me what's wrong."

Aloise's face contorted, several times in a row, before she was able to speak.

"He… doesn't care about me. No one cares about me."

"No, that's -- not true." Kaoru must have hesitated too much for comfort. "You have your friends, don't you? We all care about you."

But Aloise bit her lip, fighting back another volley. 

"No, nobody cares… Friends are friends, but this is --" She paused again, blinking back the tears. "You don't know what it's like… To be raised by servants and maids, people who are HIRED." She threw a derisive glance at Claude. "Of course he doesn't care, it's just a job --"

Kaoru squeezed her hand.

"No, Aloise, I do know what that's like. I really do."

He thought back to his childhood, but oddly enough, the memories came only in vague contours. Anything involving Hikaru before that night came in vague contours.

He ran his thumb up and down Aloise's palm.

"It's okay. It will be okay. I promise."

Come to think of it -- and he didn't want to say it -- but it WAS exceedingly odd, the way they had all been raised: by help hired from a social caste that would never have a part in their privilege, but was still entrusted with its children. His own childhood, he had thought, was not that bad: he still had his meetings with his parents to look forward to, and their glamorous parties. But he wondered what Aloise's parents were like. There had been rumors that the old Trancy had not been seen for years, and had retired or gone native in Hawaii, but nobody knew for sure...

Aloise gave another sopping, unflattering sob.

The pale light of the courtyard lay like a faded stamp upon floor, and Kaoru suddenly wanted to gather her up into his arms and to hide her away from the world. 

"Where's your bedroom, Aloise? Do you want to go lie down?" he asked in English -- for on account of her father, Aloise did also speak English.

Aloise nodded.

Claude's brush was still going swish-swish. Kaoru glanced over his shoulder at the butler, who in fact did not seem to care, and proceeded to lift himself up off his knees, threading his arms under Aloise's legs and back. Her body slumped as he lifted her up.

He proceeded to the door, and then down the hall. At her indication, he turned into a room on the left, into a round, bonboniere of a room filled with a mass of artificial flowers.


	20. Take Me To Church

Kaoru woke up -- mouth dry -- to the sound of his phone buzzing.

Prying his eyes apart, the name on the backlit screen made him sit bolt upright. For a moment, the numbers on the digital clock didn't make any sense. 

He pressed the receive button -- but the sound of Helene's voice, the bark of a born generalissimus, jolted him back to reality from the opposite direction. Helene, with Nouaia at her heels and her phone in hand, swept into the room, and made a beeline straight for the side of the bed.

"Kaoru, what on earth is going on -- I've called six times!"

The room smelled of scented linens -- candy floss and flowers -- and there was a hint of apples in the air. It hadn't taken Kaoru long to fall asleep. Aloise was nestled in the cubbyhole of his body, her tears having formed a wet spot on his coat.

"I --Helene -- s-sorry… We kind of had a situation here," Kaoru stammered hastily, pushing himself up onto his elbow. They had fallen asleep with the lights on, and he couldn't remember how it happened -- such things hadn't happened in a very long time, but with his round-the-clock schedule of entertaining Helene and his efforts to stay in touch with Japan, he hadn't been as fastidious in taking his medications as he would have liked.

"Nothing happened, I promise," he added rather uselessly, shielding his eyes with his hands.

Helene stiffened, blinking several times before she replied.

"No -- never mind, that is NOT the issue right now --"

Aloise hoisted herself up in bed, dazed, and gave a small, world-weary hiccup.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to fall asleep --"

But Helene gave a warning shake of the head, and sat down at Aloise's side -- in her khaki tranch coat and her outdoor pumps, just as she was. 

"I kind of… I just have a condition," Kaoru tried to explain.

But Helene was already busy running her thumbs up and down Aloise's palms, and did not seem to hear him. She whispered something Kaoru could not hear, and broke eye contact long enough to reach into her bag for a pack of tissues.

Aloise whimpered, and stretched her arms in the direction of Kaoru. 

Kaoru shifted over. Helene extended a tissue, and Kaoru placed his arm around the blonde girl's shoulders.

"Is there anything you need?" Helene ventured. "Should I call to bring some tea in?"

But Aloise shook her head, jerking violently away.

"NO! I HATE tea! I don't want any tea from HIM, he can go and CHOKE on it!"

The queen of St. Germain des Pres gave a slow, long-suffering sigh, pregnant with conversations Kaoru had doubtlessly missed. All four were silent for a bit, and the sound of a vacuum came from the other room.

"Look, Aloise," Kaoru ventured, doing his best to inject some optimism into his voice. "Maybe it's good to get out of the house… try and clear your head a little."

Helene nodded. 

But Aloise doggedly shook shook her head. Her entire body stiffened, and she looked to be fighting another volley.

"Come on, Aloise," Nouaia added as she lowered herself to her knees as well. "You don't want to be in this house with the people who don't care about you. Come with us -- we can buy you some ice cream."

…

The entourage climbed out of the car at Gare de l'Est, almost the exact replica of Gare du Nord where Kaoru and Kyouya had previously been: a neoclassical edifice with a strong grey outline against a greyer sky. The sky was coming down in a clingy, drizzling mist, and the Hermes scarf Helene wore around her neck was like a parakeet's scream against the cloudy day.

Per the weather forecast, the rain was supposed to clear up by the time they got to Reims, and they were not taking their car as "The Peripherique might as well had been the ninth circle of hell when it came to breaking out of it on a weekend."

Aloise had spent much of the journey oscillating between wailing into her friends' sleeves, and staring morosely out the window. Things had improved when they had stopped at a glacerie and bought her a large ice cream -- and Helene had extracted a bottle of Evian from her purse and had dabbed it over Aloise's eyes -- but her face was still beet-red as they proceeded past the turnstiles, and she still clung to Nouaia's arm as they made their way down the hall.

Helene was quiet, except for the pattering of her kitten-heels -- no longer open-toed but made of smart, calfskin leather. They took their seats in the second carriage of first class, and as the lines of the train next to them began to move, Helene glanced pensively out the window.

"It's kind of funny, you know, how she wants the love of a butler," she ventured, lightly polished finger gliding over the surface of her phone. 

Aloise had nodded off -- or so it seemed -- against Nouaia's shoulder.

Kaoru glanced quizzically at the queen.

"Are you surprised?" 

Helene's smile had a hint of a smirk in it. Kaoru noticed that her features were just tan enough, and so exuded an earthy freshness. She flicked her finger over the phone, and Nouaia took out a pair of noise-canceling headphones. Helene linked the headphones to her jack, and as the rhythmic sound of bowstrings filled the air, Aloise gave a small sigh and a gasp, and Helene placed the headphones over her ears.

Kaoru remained motionless.

"Yeah, just a little," he said. Outside, a bit of rain splattered on the glass, and as they pulled out of the station, the long lines of cars turned into a series of warehouses with peeling stucco. From somewhere in the back of the car, there came the sound of clinking glasses, along with water being poured.

Helene shrugged, unclasping the buttons of her trench coat.

"No, Aloise, I'm afraid, is very fond of Claude, and has been for a very long time. He was her tutor at first, but now he's just her butler." 

She fixed her eyes on the passing scenery, now a patchwork of balconies and colorful curtains, linens flapping in the breeze. They passed the warehouse district, walls giving way to brick; where before there was peeling stucco, there was now the tribal language of graffiti.

"It's really too bad," Helene added. "Aloise grows easily fond of people -- anyone who gives her any attention." She rose to her feet, and Kaoru, mechanically, followed suit and helped ease the trench coat off her shoulders. "That's why I've decided to keep her safe. Nouaia, too."

Kaoru glanced over at Nouaia, who looked about as vulnerable as his old friend Mori, the bodyguard of the host club. He folded the coat over his arm, drizzle clinging to the fibers. Aloise, judging from the sighs coming from her chest, had fallen fast asleep, and the sound of clinking glass came to a halt as the steward pulled up his drinks-cart, offering them a round of Perrier.

…

The photo shoot at the famous Reims cathedral had gone splendidly, though Kaoru was the only participant. Aloise had even perked up when they reached the station, and was even amused at the station mimes -- a statue in Papal robes and a dancing robot -- but when they got to the church, she pouted again.

"What on earth -- this is the exact same thing as we've got in Paris." 

And from the outside, it perhaps was. But Helene ignored her, leading the way toward the doors, and stopped briefly under the cupola awning. Above it, a set of statues peered down in solemn assembly, and for a moment Helene regarded them if peering into time itself.

Inside, the granite lay cloaked in balmy silence. As sunlight filtered through the glass, voices hushed and swelled and hushed again, footfalls muffled over time-worn granite.

The rows of pews were like rowers' benches, stretching out in two straight lines. At the head of the ark, there was a sunburst stained glass window -- the largest stained glass window in the world.

Helene drew a deep sigh, looking up at the pointed awnings.

"Just makes you want to make a confession, doesn't it?"

She paused by one of the pillars, touching her palm against the stone. Nouaia looked at her queen in silence. Neither the black girl nor the blonde, leaning on her arm, looked very enthused, but for once there was no artifice to Helen's bearing.

She turned on her heel.

"Just let me take a few pictures of Kaoru, then we can go. I promise -- I'll buy you anything you like."

At this, she turned to Kaoru, and Kaoru pressed his lips in an unwilling smile, extending the Nikon bag.

He really did like to be photographed. He did not like to admit as much, and had never taken many solo photos. But as he came into the light, he let the sultry luster rest on his skin, and the sound of the shutter-click drew forth a very natural smile.

"Yes -- beautiful." Helene's shutter clicked again. "Just worship. Just like that."

Kaoru blushed. 

What he had done was very far from worshipping -- unless the Ecstasy of St. Teresa was his object.

Click, click -- the shutter clicked again.

"Do you want to hear a confession, Kaoru? Now that we're here in the house of my forebears?" 

Helene cracked a winsome grin. 

Kaoru closed his eyes and thought of Kyouya. Bodies in the sand of a Mediterranean beach. Mouths seeking mouths, salty skin, middles grinding against thighs. 

"Forebears?"

"Why, yes, of course" -- click, click -- "I am a queen, after all. I don't have a kingdom nowadays, but that doesn't matter, does it?"

"No, I guess not…"

Click, click.

"Good. Then my confession is, I have a bit of an issue."

"Oh, and what's that?"

Issue, indeed. She clearly had a truckload of those.

"Yes, right -- you'd think, what issues could I have?" Helene paused in taking her aim, and Kaoru opened his eyes a sliver. Helene gestured with her eyes in the direction of the other two. "You see, the queen has two handmaidens. And she's got a ball coming up -- the November Veterans' Day Ball. The problem is, she doesn't have a clue what to do with them."

She knotted her lips into a bow-tie knot, and Kaoru raised his eyebrows.

"Well, that's a bit of a surprise," he said, breaking character for a moment. "I thought they were both pretty desirable, and anyway, don't you think --"

"Oh, it's not that" -- Helene returned to her clicking. "I mean, Aloise is desirable enough -- almost too desirable if you ask me, but Nouaia is a bit of a conundrum…"

Kaoru glanced at the other girls.

Nouaia was patting Aloise's head -- who had collapsed into her lap, and was twitching pitifully.

It seemed they were out of ear-shot.

"I don't think I understand," Kaoru said. "I mean, I guess men don't like women who are tall, but she's one of your handmaidens --"

Helene lowered her voice to a whisper.

"No, but don't you see, that's the point!" She made her almond eyes wide. "If she weren't my handmaiden, there'd be ZERO interest…"

Kaoru took another moment to study Nouaia -- and began to back away, hoping to lure Helene after him. 

Nouaia did look beautiful. Beautiful in an unusual way, of course -- but there was a nobleness about her: her full lips and her high-bridge nose, her quiet air of fortitude. Her presence in the middle of a European stronghold did turn tourists' heads -- but Kaoru liked the way it seemed to discombobulated the spirits of the place.

"Yeah, I can't give her just to anyone, you know," Helene whispered, appearing suddenly right in front of his face. "I can't just let her go with someone who will take her as a favor…"

Kaoru gave a swallow. Not that he liked the time and place of this discussion, but he did, after some thought, relate to the sentiment. He attempted a smile, and stepped away, propping himself up against an outcropping.

"Well, it can't be that bad, can it?" he ventured. "I mean, I'm sure there are guys out there who like that sort of look. I mean, in Japan --"

Helene rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, in Japan. In Japan there's a market for everything. But here, black girls will always be quote 'pretty for a black girl.' Men love them indoors, but they'll never want to be seen with them in public."

Kaoru opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His face must have expressed the full extend of his feelings, for Helene stepped toward him, and, chuckling, reached out to touch his cheek.

"You don't -- actually mean that…"

But Helene nodded, breaking into a guileless smile.

"Oh, Kaoru, you're so innocent, I love it. You probably don't even know what racism is… "

Kaoru pressed his lips, but Helene had gone back to adjusting the settings.

Strictly speaking, it wasn't true. The Hitachiin family was, in fact, known for having some Ainu blood, and the Ainu had long been persecuted. But perhaps in light of the high-powered name, it had ceased to matter, and was no longer viewed as anything but a curiosity…

He smiled, deeming it best to count himself defeated.

"Helene," he tried to change the subject. "Is this your way of saying that I should go with her? Because I would, you know. And it won't be charity, either, I actually really like Nouaia --"

But Helene shook her head, and pressed a finger to his lips this time. 

"No, that's not an option, silly." She smiled. "I've already got that figured out. You're going with me --"

"With you? Oh… okay…"

Helene tapped his nose and pulled away, turning to click through the thumbnails of her pictures. Kaoru thanked his lucky stars that social grooming had taught him what to do in such a situation.

"O--kay," he said again. He straightened his collar. "But then I think that you should know something about me before I escort you. You see, I'm actually --"

Actually… what?

He studied Helene's face, suddenly very pretty and very curious, and ran everything that happened in the last month through his head.

It certainly didn't sit well with him, this habit she had -- talking about her friends when they were barely out of earshot. But on the whole, he had no other reason to mistrust her --

"Oh, is it that you're gay? Or that you're engaged? I know that already."

"Uh --"

The shutter clicked again.

Kaoru didn't know what to say. He backed away slowly, sinking onto a bench.

Helene regarded him with winsome head-tilt.

"Oh, don't be silly." She smiled. "I know it's at least one of those two. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I'm only telling you about my friends because they know I'll tell you. They know what I'm like and they trust me absolutely. As for the other thing, don't worry. These things take care of themselves. People eventually find out, you know -- or not. Either way, no one will talk about it until you do."

Kaoru remained paralyzed, smile plastered on like a pair of wax lips.

Helene chuckled, and drew a line down the side of his chin.

Kaoru didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Over his head, the footsteps of some new arrivals echoed and fell silent, but their voices carried on.

Helene laughed again, her golden face rosy in the light.

Kaoru covered his face with his hands. 

For a few seconds, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and become a plot of earth underfoot.

Click-click-click-click.

Particles of dust circled over pink brocade -- shadow and light on the floor.

Should say something? Walk away? There was no guarantee she would hear him or change her ways. If Kyouya had been there, he might have that it was far better to have a friend than an enemy. 

And at any rate, maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it was the culture… Maybe it was time to stop living in his skull-sized kingdom.

He looked up, and started a little when he saw Helene was no longer standing up, but sitting next to him.

"Oh, Kaoru, I'm sorry," she said, hands folded primly in her lap. "I'm sorry I said it right out of the blue like that -- it must've been a little traumatic…"

Kaoru looked at her face, searching for some sign of artifice.

"I like you, you know," she continued. "But don't worry, not that way. And we're all a little different, here. I mean -- Aloise? You know her father's not her real father, right? It's kind of a sordid story, but anyway… And Nouaia -- she actually doesn't want to go with anyone either, but that's because she's got eyes only for her brother -- adopted brother, but still. And then there's me -- I'm asexual. So in all honesty, the fact that you're gay or engaged --"

"Wait, what?… A-sexual? How can that… be?"

The words had broken from Kaoru's lips before he had properly registered them. 

"Oh, easily enough." Helene shrugged. "Some people don't like chocolate. Some people don't like sex. That's really all there is to it."

"…Chocolate?"

"Yeah, sure. Everybody loves chocolate, right? Or almost everybody. But some people don't like it -- and they say the same chemicals are released in your brain when you eat chocolate as when you have sex…"

"Oh… I didn't know that."

Helene gave another winsome smile.

"And I know what you're gonna say. That maybe I haven't found the right person yet, or that it's not the right time. But it's one of those things that you just know. I mean, I don't know a whole lot, but I know this with absolute certainty."

She looked at him -- and after a moment, he couldn't stand it. She looked so beautiful, so guileless...

He looked looked down at his hands. Certainly, he couldn't vouch that he believed it wasn't something she made it. But at the same time, things suddenly made so, so much sense.

"Well, you know…" He glanced up. "Maybe I could get of my two friends to come. One of them's my, uh, boyfriend -- but you can't tell yet -- we're not out to many people. But then we could all go together -- but… not go together. Does that make any sense?"

…

"So, how is Miss Tonnerre?" 

Kyouya's face was sporting the urbane smile he had often had as a host.

"Odd," Kaoru shrugged, diffident smile over his features. They were on Skype again, and Kaoru had wrapped himself up in his blanket.

"Although, I do appreciate you letting me hang out with her," he added after a moment. "I mean, it's obviously not the easiest thing to do, to let go of what her sister had done --"

"Well, people are different," Kyouya reached to peel a curious Noir away from the keyboard. "After all, her older sister was only following orders. You cannot blame her for that."

"Yeah, I suppose not." Kaoru bit his lip. "But she did try to separate us from Boss -- which was above and beyond, don't you think?"

Kyouya blinked, nodding, and held Noir close to his chest. Behind him, the light was casting pinkish hues on the mirrored wall: it was early morning.

"I mean, would you have done the same if your family ordered you? You know what it's like to have a group of friends, and to care a lot about them…"

Kyouya shrugged. "I suppose not. But I guess it all depends --"

Kaoru smiled. 

"Heh, maybe I shouldn't have asked you, Senpai. But honestly, I don't think you would have: your heart is too good. And I don't think Helene would have either. I don't quite approve of her methods, but I think she really does care about her friends."


	21. The Gate on the Coast

Hey Kaoru,  
You know, it's probably stupid that I'm writing to you so late at night, but you know what I found the other day? My old copy of "Treasure Island." Remember that pirate phase we had? How we demanded we stay in the pirate hotel in Lab Vegas for grandpa's 80th, and that big pirate ship we had in the yard? I remember we'd play "walk the plank" all day, and cry so much when the maid called us back inside for dinner…

Anyway, the book's got some mysterious sticky crap all over it, but it's still in good shape, so I thought I'd give it a read.

And guess what? That teacher who once told us that there's no reading, only rereading -- well, he's right. There's a lot of stuff in there I didn't pick up on the first timed. Like, seriously, that book is full of shit. There isn't a page where somebody isn't getting killed or threatened to be killed. And Jim Hawkins, he's what? Thirteen, fifteen at the time? And at the end of the book, he's like, "oxen and wain-ropes wouldn't drag me back to that accursed island." Back in the day, that was always confusing to me, but now… Now I think I get it. He's got PTSD. The whole thing was like a war to him.

So what am I saying with this? I guess…

I guess… what I wanted to say is I'm sorry, Kaoru. I don't know if what you have is PTSD, but I can't stop thinking about it. All I think about is that -- how you must wake up in the middle of the night, how you scream, and how horrible it might be. 

It hurts like hell... Heck, 

But anyway… I'm really sorry, Kaoru. Really. And I just wanted to say… What I have? I deserve it. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and what I have? I deserve it now.

Yours, 

Hikaru

...

Hey Hika,  
Yeah, I totally remember our pirate ship. It was so much fun -- we'd walk the plank, and I'd cry, and then... Mother built her rock garden?.. I guess you can't have it all. :)

And yeah, as for Jim Hawkins... I guess… I accept your apology? I mean, you're right, I don't know what I have, maybe it's PTSD, but that was a really cool thought, and I think you're right, and I'm sorry you're hurting right now. I really wish I could be there to help you, but I tried to call you and you're not answering, so I guess you must be sleeping now. 

But anyway. Look, Hika… In situations like this, I think the only thing we can do is keep moving forward. I know it's tough, but it's got to be done.

And look, at the end of the day, you didn't lost anything. Remember how you said, we're twins, and that it's a precious gift, and nobodycan take away from us? Well, I'm saying it back to you now: we're twins, and nobody can take that away from us, not even the stupid things wer. So rest easy, Hika, okay? And look, just two more days! I really have missed you, by the way. 

:)

Kaoru

 

...

It was evening, and the four of them were in Helene's boudoir -- or what she liked to call her boudoir, but was really just a set of rooms adjacent to her bedroom that were used for studying, lounging, pillow fights, and tea. The double doors of the balcony stood wide open, letting in an unseasonably warm breeze and Aloise sat on the floor, cursing and with legs wide open. 

"Damn, damn, damn, all this cellulite" -- she pinched her flesh with merciless fingers, working in a "scientifically advanced" creme. "No matter what I do, it just keeps coming back."

Kaoru glanced at the objects of her wrath, and try as he might, could find no fault with them.

Aloise dropped another spatula-full on her legs, and with a vengeful sweep went back to pinching.

Kaoru couldn't help but smile. He was loth to admit the problem -- if ever there was one -- was on the other end, but Aloise had a lively appetite for sweets, and a set of livelier teeth to defend it. Still, a sly-eyed exchange with Nouaia later, the beautiful Masai got up to join him on the rug.

She nudged Kaoru with her shoulder, and reached for the second to last crumpet. Aloise pretended not to notice -- Nouaia, quite possibly, was the only one to have gotten away with something like this at this juncture, but when she broke the cake in two, Kaoru waved it away.

_For when it came to Aloise's "problem," it didn't help that he only admitted it to himself and was calling the kettle black. The pastries had had developed an embarrassing liking for were settling on his flanks, and when he asked for held finding a gym, the query hit a blank wall of stares._

__

"A gym?" -- Helene exploded into giggles after a minute of diligent silence. "What on Earth do you want a gym for? Are you American?"

"We… Europeans don't exercise. We -- do other things" -- Aloise stretched out the words as long she could, placing undue emphasis on "other things" and eyed Kaoru with ill-concealed schadenfreude.

"Also, you're sexy as it is," Helene had thrown in for good measure. "You don't need to exercise -- or are you doing it for your boyfrieeend?"

Nouaia, helpfully, had remained silent, and had texted him an address of a sporting goods store, along with the message "just go running in the streets -- it's what I used to do."

And Kaoru had gone running in the streets, but it was getting cold -- and there were also other problems. For example, when he went running after school, he had to weave and dodge the businessmen in suits, who looked at him like he embodied all the world's evils. And before school, the streets were clear enough, and the air was clean except for ozone -- but even then, when he did meet someone opening a shop or walking their dog, the person invariably turned out to be a comedian.

Among the things Kaoru had received were offers of marriage, taunts to the tune of "Cours, Forrest, Cours!", and, often and quite in earnest, glib inquiries as to whether he was running from a physical or metaphorical entity.

And so this was why, as Kaoru contemplating Aloise's thighs, he did it with slightly more sympathy than he otherwise might have. He knew he wasn't ready to give up macarons either, and deep down he knew Helene had been right. The prospect of being alone with Kyouya stressed him something awful, and as the ball inched closer with a glacier-like relentlessness, it was almost enough to set him pinching his thighs, too.

Helene emerged from her bedroom -- she preferred to "change into something more comfortable" at the stroke of nine, and this time, "something comfortable" was satin pajamas with a monogrammed H. She appraised the assembly with her almond eyes, and lowered herself onto a pouf by the vanity.

"Eclair is coming soon," she commented. 

Kaoru looked up. Nouaia had gone back buffing her nails, and as her nail-file swished, Aloise kept up a steady stream of curses.

Kaoru had often wondered about Eclair -- he couldn't not, given past events -- and despite the general dislike for her person, he harbored a tepid admiration for the way she'd struck for the core, being only an interloper. And yet, what he wondered about more than that was the fact that Helene had hardly brought up Eclair after their first meeting, and only on deliberate questioning did she admit that Eclair was at the Sorbonne now, studying political science, and was currently abroad at Princeton.

And so Kaoru swallowed timorously, and took pains to look less like a hound who'd fallen upon a scent.

Nouaia's nail file continued to swish.

"I was thinking of what I'd wear when I came to meet her…" Helene mused. "How about the Trafalgar pallette that Kaoru bought me when he was late? What do you all think? And with my blue and magenta scarf?"

"When is Eclair coming back, anyway?" Kaoru ventured, trying to sound innocent.

"A couple days before the ball. She's only coming for three days."

Helene climbed off the pouf and sat by Nouaia. Peering over her friend's hands, she surveyed the overflow of makeup from the vanity table -- the muster of forces was so extensive that the coffee table and etagere were commandeered as well. 

The girls had fallen into a comfortable routine around Kaoru. Eloise and Nouaia had even gone so far as to not clip their bathrobes at the top when they found out Kaoru was gay -- and even now, the way Nouaia folded her limbs and the way Helene pressed against her friend had an artlessness to it unique to women who weren't being watched.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nouaia noted Kaoru's zen-face, and gave him a smile and a nod.

"Oh? Eclair?--" In the end, it was Aloise who voiced it -- but Helene rose, cutting her friend off with an imperious air.

She proceeded to the balcony -- peering out over the makeup square she had picked out, and the wind moved the curls at the base of her neck. 

"I'll think I WILL wear one this with my blue and magenta scarf," she said, glancing in the tiny mirror. "I think it'll look nice: it gives my skin a nice, sophisticated pallor."

And without another word, she put the compact down, and walked only the balcony. The wind threaded its fingers through her hair, and she climbed onto the parapet, propping her elbows on the edge.

The rooftops lay in shadow, stretching into the night. The Eiffel tower shone like a tall party-tree, and the headlights of cars moved like shiny beads on a whire.

"It's just the two of us, now," she whispered.

The grasses of the knoll ribbed and billowed in the wind, and Helene had always thought it looked like a breaker with its sharp wisp of grass blowing at the top. Not too far beyond there was an ocean, with real breakers, and a train station, and farmers' stands. Helene liked to buy tomatoes at the farmers' stands, and eat them like apples, juices dripping down her chin. The others thought it was horrifying when she did that, but then again, she had always been a little bit feral.

The decision to have come here had been her own, but it was universally acknowledged to be the right one. Mme de Rastignac had suggested it, and Helene had agreed after visiting that it would be a very good place for her to rest while things were sorted out.

That day was visiting day -- every second Sunday, and Helene was standing with her feet on the bottom bar of the gate -- a little spike-topped gate, by the side of the real gate where the cars would be coming in. Visiting day was always nice: there were always lots of gifts, and they were always from Paris.

Helene knew everyone's car by now, and delighted in guessing which one it was, coming down the road. Her own car was white with a gazelle on the hood --- the only one that was like that.

That day, her father had stepped out of the car, and she knew she was going home. She didn't know how she knew -- she just saw the yellow brazer and she knew. It was a pale spring day, one of the first of the year where you could get away without wearing a jacket, and Eclair was with him. She didn't have her opera glass.

Helene ran towards them, but somebody grabbed her arm.

She started as if was falling, and was in Paris again. The traffic moved without a sound, and the dome of the Invalides was like an amber orb.

"Helene, you okay?"

Kaoru stood below her. In her peripheral vision, she saw Aloise and knew Noaia was not far away.

Helene shook her head. Everything seemed eerily far away.

She jumped down, and landed on cotton legs.

"Yeah -- Yeah. I guess I just need to figure out --"

The granite was cool underfoot, and the lightness of everything made her head spin..

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry --"

Kaoru reached out, to help support her arm, but she walked away.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Back in the room, the lights glowed brightly. Helene walked to the vanity table, and, like an automaton, plopped down on the floor. 

"Helene, seriously -- are you sure you're okay?"

But Nouaia placed a hand on his arm, and he knew to stop asking.

Helene's look was like that she had had at the party they'd hosted together -- or rather, the one he had hosted alone. A shape that resembled Aloise appeared in his peripheral vision.

"Speaking of, aren't your boyfriend and your brother coming soon?" 

Sure enough. Aloise. Cheshire cat-like grin and all.

Kaoru sighed. Helene reached for a nail polish bottle, oddly empty.

"Well, yeah..."

"Can I come with you to meet them, then?"

Kaoru turned towards the smaller girl and searched her face. Nouaia settled down by her queen's side to paint her nails.

"I guess?"

The smell of acetone filled the air.

Aloise smiled.

Kaoru felt lost -- like he'd forgotten his map, and gotten off at the wrong station.

But Aloise beamed.

"Well, then it's settled," -- she cried, a with quick prance and a half-pirouette in place. "Cuz I love going to the airport. I wouldn't travel any more to save my life, but as far as watching planes taking off is concerned, I couldn't think of a better day!"

…

The turbines of the charter plane hummed, and the sun was high over the Caribbean. Jim Hawkins was making his way onto an abandoned ship, and the crash of waves echoed from the shore.

A shadow fell over him, and Hikaru shut the book. Kyouya reached over the seat to put his briefcase overhead.

The two of them had seats right next to each other on the flight, and the plan was for them to room together Paris, too. Kyouya had rented the apartment himself -- it gave him some modicum of control over the situation.

The roar of the engine dulled to a purr as Kyouya stretched out his legs. He closed his eyes. The two of them would be sharing a living room in the sky -- two partial walls, a circular space with chairs turning into beds, a couple of tables. There was a welcome basket, too -- napkins, menu, some oranges and some Pellegrinos.

He felt Hikaru's eyes upon him.

"Hello, Hikaru," -- he finally said, opening his own. The stewardess had just walked by.

"Hello, Kyouya."

The engines swelled to a roar again, and the PA system came on. The pilot welcomed the passengers on board, and requested that they take their seats. Kyouya closed his eyes, and mentally counted back nine hours.

…

As he had noted before, Kyouya had wanted to hate Hikaru, but he couldn't do it.

The first snack service had passed though, and he estimated they were over China. It wasn't so much that he was uncomfortable around Hikaru, no -- the two corresponded often by email now -- but to sit next to him was, to put it mildly -- was odd. If felt like sitting next to an ersatz Kaoru. 

And then Hikaru dropped a bomb that was altogether not ersatz in nature.

"So, uh, will you and Kaoru be needing the apartment at any point?" 

Kyouya's breeding was his only saving grace. He paused, slowly and deliberately fixing his glasses.

When he looked over at Hikaru, he saw that Hikaru had tented his fingers, was looking at him all curious-like.

The Ootori cleared his throat.

"We'll let you know, Hikaru."

Glancing at his tablet -- an article in Travel and Leisure open on a split-screen that allowed the monitoring of his college applications -- he tried to flush any further thought on the matter out of his mind.

But Hikaru gave a small cough and continued to stare.

Kyouya put the tablet down.

"Hikaru. I am not going to talk about this now," she said.

From the end of the cabin, the smell of braised lamb tickled his nostrils.

Hikaru slowly sat back in his seat.

With a mother's sigh, Kyouya took up his tablet.


	22. Many Meetings

Two hours into the flight, Kyouya ate a passable meal of braised lamb, and fell asleep unfitfully under a blanket. The night passed away quickly, and before long, they were waking up to soft music and the sights and sounds of Paris on their plasma screens.

Kyouya rose from the bed -- no point in scrounging a few moments of sleep in this questionable warmth -- and went off to brush his teeth. When he returned, Hikaru was sitting up and stirring his coffee.

Kyouya sat down, and took a piece toast. Hikaru seemed happy. 

"So how's college the stuff going?"

Kyouya took a bite.

"It's going."

"Where are you thinking of applying?"

Hikaru seemed far too chipper.

Kyouya looked into his cup. The whirring of the engine sent ripples over its surface.

"Well, there's the University of Tokyo," he said. "And Ouran U. Those are the gut choices. I'm also looking abroad: Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Oxford… The application for early admission to U.S. school was last week."

"Oh." Hikaru paused mid-swirl. "And how does Kaoru feel about all this?"

Kyouya paused.

Ah. Of course.

"I don't know how Kaoru feels." He shrugged. He had to admit, to riposte this one was far too easy. "I'll ask him when we get to that juncture." 

The orange-scented tendrils curled above his cup, and he took a long draw of tea.

And the truth was -- he had meant to ask Kaoru, but somehow it felt better this way. It was a different way of being, to be sure, but not an unwelcome one, and besides -- he already knew what Kaoru was going to say.

Hikaru settled back, and -- putting his legs one over the other, took one last look at Kyouya, winsome-like.

"I think," he said "I'm gonna try and stay away from the apartment between 9 and 12 every night, how does that sound?" He flipped a page. "I kind of want to go out more when I'm there, and I've heard good things about the rave scene."

…

Aloise had adapted her Loli getup to the season, and in her cute, hip-length pea coat she looked like a shepheress against the cold, dank concrete of the airport.

Arm in arm with Kaoru she skipped, pulling him across the arrivals hall. They came to a stop under the schedule board, and the sound of people -- the clatter of heels and the buzz of voices filled the hall right up to the brim.

"It won't be here, though," Kaoru shook his head. "They have a private charter flight."

Aloise nodded, but was still reluctant to tear away from the line that read "Samarkand."

"Wanna do some shopping while we wait?" Kaoru ventured with a smile.

Aloise appeared in agreement with the idea, nodding vigorously, but he still had to pull her arm to break her heels from the floor.

…

They had agreed to meet by the arrivals gate, next to a coffee shop. Aloise was sitting on a high stool, dangling one leg over the bar and making short work of some lemon meringue pie. Kaoru drummed his fingers on a cup -- he didn't need caffeine, nor was he thirsty.

Hikaru's shock of hair was the first thing he saw. Kyouya's presence by his side was unmistakeable -- the military turn of his collar, the self-assured gravity of his step.

Kaoru hoped the seconds would last forever.

Aloise edged her hand closer to his.

"That them?"

Hikaru and Kyouya had stopped -- Hikaru's hand was raised as if to pull Kyouya back by the sleeve, and it looked like they were talking.

Kaoru saw his chance.

He got up and strode toward them.

As he walked, he felt the ground give way under his feet. He realized he had no plan. Like the man in "The Lady or the Tiger," he walked towards two doors with opposite fates. Kyouya was indeed his boyfriend now, but Hikaru had always been…

He molded his lips into a smile -- the famous smile that had made him the darling of the Host Club. As he waved, Kyouya stopped, raising his hand as if Hikaru's words had suddenly lost import. Kaoru felt a prickling behind his eyes and came towards his lover, their limbs entwining smoothly.

Seeing Hikaru in the flesh was, well… was "seeing a ghost" too cliche a thing to say? And yet that was just it -- an uncomfortable cramp through his chest, a liquefying of his spine, a nagging yen that he couldn't quite say was fear or an urge to reach out and test the veracity of the subject…

Hikaru's skin had grown paler from the last time he saw him. He wore a long-sleeved flannel shirt, and his hands were pulled back in his sleeves.

"Hello, my dear," Kyouya's voice came, a heady whisper over his ear. Headier and softer, indeed, than he remembered it. Kaoru pressed his cheek against Kyouya's coat -- it was too tall an order for Kyouya to kiss him right then, but the scratchy feel of the wool made him yearn to sink right into it.

"Hello, Kyouya."

The last word was muffled by the coat. 

He couldn't bring himself to look up. Not at the familiar face that had looked at him so long like he was the best thing that ever happened. Pressing closer, he did the one thing he knew how: he held Kyouya close, listening to the thump-thump, and before long the seconds stretched into long peals, and the movement of the crowd had slowed around them. 

Giving leave for some time to pass, after a few moments he felt he was ready. He peeked out from Kyouya's coat, stretching his arms toward his brother.

"Hi-ka-ruu --"

The first syllable skipped, pulling the rest down his tongue.

Kyouya relaxed his grasp, and from the safety of his arms, the twins linked hands. 

"How was your flight, Hikaru?"

"It was fine, Kaoru. Just fine. How are you?"

Kaoru was about reply, but the prancing sound of chopines took the words straight out of his mouth. He didn't need to turn -- he just chuckled, and -- releasing Hikaru's hand -- turned with a parting squeeze.

"Hikaru, Kyouya," he said, smiling to see his estimate of where she'd stopped had been spot-on. "This is Aloise Trancy," he said in English.

Aloise did a mincing jig, and a smile lit up whole face. 

With a pert chuckle, Kyouya bent to kiss her hand. 

"Daughter of the Earl of Trancy, I presume?"

"That's me!" -- Aloise beamed, her eyes sparkling like two drops of venetian glass. "And before you ask, NO, I can't tell you where he is -- it's a Big Secret, though I think last I checked he was in on an island in the middle of the Pacific somewhere, and you only get internet there twice a day, and only in good weather!" 

Kyouya released her hand.

"Well, that's good to hear." His eyes turned to happy, half-moon slits. "Kyouya Ootori, at your service. I didn't know the good earl personally, but it is a credit to your name that you're getting on so well without a guardian."

Aloise glanced down, her skin suddenly touched to pink, and Kaoru gave an unwilling a chuckle. Kyouya was certainly turning on the charm full blast -- the suave vice-president's voice, the waist slightly bent and the shoulders slightly slumped to be less threatening to the smaller girl. His smile was one of pure, hundred-proof delight, but whether or not Kaoru believed it, he certainly believed the tremble in Aloise's knees. 

Hikaru jolted forward.

"And I'm Hikaru," he grinned, going into a slight plie with an outwardly extended leg -- "The evil half of the Hitachiin brothers." He beamed, and as the mildly affronted question surfaced in Aloise's eyes, he took her hand and kissed it also.

"Ehem -- well -- shall we?" Kaoru took a step forward, gently easing them apart.

They had formed an island in the middle of the hall, and the crowd was flowing around them.

Kyouya picked up the cue, and, sweeping his arms, added import to the motion. Slowly, the group began to move toward the exit.

…

The four of them had piled into Aloise's car, and as they settled in the back seat to a general discussion of charter flights and all the places where a de-petrified Aloise had been, Kaoru found his way back into a cubbyhole of Kyouya's body. As he watched Hikaru and Aloise, he marveled at the way his friend had felt the need to ask Hikaru all the same questions. She had only asked them of him a month before, yet Hikaru was happy to oblige, and they chatted rapidly, glancing over from time to time to invite him into the conversation.

Kaoru hung back, however, and felt content to cuddle in the coat and watch their excited faces. 

The car took a sharp turn in the road, and pulled into a wide, circular highway. The motion pressed the twin into Kyouya's side, and Kyouya tightened his arm around him.

"How do you feel?"

Kaoru nodded. "Good, I feel good."

He glanced up at Kyouya with deferent eyes.

"And what about you? Do you feel okay?"

The rain drizzled out the lights, leaving a soft, impressionistic wash. Kyouya fixed his glasses on his nose.

"No, way -- you're lying!" Aloise exclaimed.

"No-no-no, not lying -- not for a second!" Hikaru waved his arms dramatically in the air.

The younger twin pressed his palm against his lips.

Kyouya's coat was heavy with mist, and he shifted to remove it. 

"Of course I'm okay," he relied, brushing some moisture from the lapel. "After all, I'm Kyouya Ootori."

…

On November days like this, the Bistro Au Petit Suisse was the warmest place in Paris. Located just opposite the Jardin de Luxembourg, it was a small, busy, home-style restaurant with too many wooden chairs and a crimson awning out in front. On days when the sun crept low across the horizon, the Parisians gathered there for tea and chitchat.

Helene and Kaoru had been there before -- Helene was always on the lookout for "places of memory" -- and the place boasted the city's best Croque Monsieur and had just celebrated its 200th birthday, so it more than fit the bill. Helene also deemed it the perfect place for the two groups of friends to meet, though when Kaoru heard her decree, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows.

"You're wondering why I didn't pick someplace more chic" -- Helene had clicked her tongue with a matter of fact alacrity. The two were home -- having made the rounds of the candidate cafes -- and in the day following the "balcony incident," Helene had gone back to being her usual, bossy self and the girls suffered a strange amnesia of the experience. 

"Well, it's because I don't want anyone to see you just yet --" she chiseled the words with a deliberation of one speaking to a child. "Besides, it's small, it's off the beaten path, and I don't want to show you handsome gents just yet -- I to make an entrance!" 

And Kaoru had sighed -- he'd often wondered how it came to be that he and Helene no longer needed questions. He couldn't pinpoint an exact time, but it reminded him of something.

The rain had ceased to fall, and had a pearly sheen along with some scattered leaves on the pavement. Kyouya and Hikaru met Kaoru, freshly changed, underneath the chestnut trees, and when Helene arrived -- with her dancing step and a handmaiden on each side -- she had approached Kaoru first, and planted a kiss on each cheek.

Kaoru quickly hopped to, and handshakes and names were exchanged all around.

"Wow, Kyouya Ootori," Helene clasped his hand a little longer than necessary. "It's great to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

And Kyouya was fabulous -- his eyes were a perfect, guileless complement to her smile -- though before Kaoru could stop and take stock of his love, Helene had turned away, and with a sweeping motion directed them toward the restaurant.

And so they went, and took their seats on the upper level. The table was small, polished smooth with age, but altogether it felt right, with the sounds of the kitchen behind the wall and the warmth coming off each others' sweaters.

Unlike her sister, Helene never spoke of anybody's social standing -- only of "you," and "me," and "us."

"It's lovely to meet you both, so lovely," she repeated again and again. Opening the menu, she seemed ready to drink in all it had to offer.

Nouaia handed out the menus, and Aloise tied a napkin around her neck. 

"So you've been to Paris before, is that right?" Helene inquired.

Kyouya nodded.

"I have. Several times. But aside from the last time, my activities were fairly tourist-centric."

He removed his glasses, wiping them clean with a cloth. 

Hikaru took up the nod.

"Yeah, your class went to Paris in middle school, didn't they?"

Helene wrinkled the sides of her eyes at him, but Kaoru could tell she was pleased.

"Yeah, our class trip was to Paris out freshman year," Hikaru went on, straightening his bangs like a dandy. "Personally, it was my second-favorite class trip -- right after the two-week hike we took in New Zealand…"

Helene raised her eyebrows.

"Two class trips? That's fairly impressive."

"Impressive?" Kyouya gave a laugh, replacing his glasses. "Well, I suppose it could be -- but then again, it's a fairly common practice in Japan, though not everyone can go abroad…"

"Why -- do you not to go on class trips in France?" Hikaru ventured.

Helene smiled, but before her expression could say more, it was Nouaia who answered.

"Well, I don't think it's uncommon per se," she replied, glancing up from her menu. "But I don't think it's all that common across the board either."

"Our class did go to Lison in Portugal once," Aloise said.

Helene lowered her eyes, and seemed suddenly engrossed in the hors d'oeurves.

"Oh, and what was Portugal like?" -- Kyouya smiled. 

"A bit boring, actually." Aloise shrugged.

Kyouya gave a compassionate smile. 

Positioning his fingers under his chin, the girls saw that he, too, had a listening zen-face.

"That's too bad."

"I kind of liked the streetcars, though," Aloise added, fiddling with her sash. "I kind of liked to go up and see everything, though I guess in the end it still wasn't a good time --"

Kaoru smiled, and touched her shoulder.

"I would've guessed you liked to see things from above." 

Aloise shrugged.

"I guess so..."

"Alright, how about a round of cafe-creme's to start?" -- Helene appeared to resurrect, her face a shining beacon over her menu.

By the end of the tea, Kaoru felt comfortable -- little by little, the conversation began to flow, word hooking on word and smile on diffident smile. Before long, there was a lively discussion going, and Helene wanted to know all of the Host Club's activities, the better to judge the boys' capacities for the ball. Nouaia revealed herself as a resource for anyone not well versed in ballroom dancing, and when Kaoru expressed his amazement, she shrugged and said the subject "never came up." 

Helene also wanted to know how to say everyone's name right, and had squeezed the twins together for the benefit of her camera lens. After that happened, Hikaru and Kaoru remained sitting close to one another, and Kyouya had entertained the girls while Kaoru looked at his brother.

He recognized the beauty marks and freckle on his chin, and though memory was a strange thing, it did not hurt him too badly.

And then Hikaru turned, and smiled shyly with his cheekbones. 

Kaoru found himself without much to say, but it didn't feel bad -- sitting this close to one another.


	23. Union

After the tea at Au Petit Suisse, Kaoru wanted to go home, and Kyouya decided to go with him. The girls, along with Hikaru, had decided to make rounds of Helene's favorite patisserie spots, and to find some karaoke in honor of the the occasion. As two groups parted ways, Helene had decreed that they would meet near the Tonnerre estate the following day, and proceed with further planning.

Dinner was clams in white wine sauce -- which Kaoru had no stomach for after his heavy Croque Monsieur -- but he delighted in watching Kyouya anyway.

And Kyouya was fabulous -- the boy you'd take to meet your parents any day. He complemented each course with grace, he thanked and he parried, he accepted everything with joy, and though he held his own in a discussion of politics, he never let it go to his head -- so by the end of it all, Kaoru found it hard not to rip his clothes off.

The Rastignacs retired at the stroke of ten, and by then, the two of them were seated at the low-legged coffee table in the living room, and the remnants of the aperitif stood between them. 

Kaoru was half-reclining on the couch, and had one of his legs up. To avoid acting out his wish, he fixed his eyes on the small yet expressive seascape on the wall -- a ship going down in a storm.

He had suddenly grown conscious of how quiet it was. The grandfather clock ticked away in the corner, its gears moving in time with the pinecone-tipped chains, and the treetops rustled in the wind outside, the sputter of an engine rising and dying away.

Kyouya leaned over and kissed him.

The twin's mouth fell slack and he gave a soft "ahh." But he turned to him slowly, repositioning himself so he sat athwart his lap, and his hands drifted over Kyouya's waist.

"Ah... I missed you, m'dear…"

"I know. I did too. I missed this."

They kissed for a few moments, and then Kyouya pulled away -- gazing lovingly into the amber-velvet eyes, the porcelain skin, the saffron lips. The twin's face had a quality that made him want to drown in it.

All day long, they had been speaking English for the benefit of others. Kaoru said no more and leaned in for another kiss, this time a longer and needier one.

Kyouya sighed, and as their lips met, there was more hunger than before -- pulling lips against tongues, hips against hips, fingers digging into cloth. Briefly, the Ootori wondered what would happen if one of the Rastignacs or the maid were to walk in, but as his hands sank, shaking, into the textured pants, the thought melted away to nothingness.

They continued to kiss. Lips sliding against lips -- Kaoru's thicker and now swollen with need -- Kyouya closed his eyes, trying to pick up the subtle notes of Kaoru's fragrance. But he didn't seem to be wearing any -- he just smelled like himself: a little powder, a little sweat, the warmth of his body molding the world around him.

"Want to go to bed?" -- drawing back, Kyouya's voice was a heavy whisper.

Kaoru nodded -- his cheeks had turned red, and he looked to be hiding his eyes. Kyouya wrapped his arms around him -- warmly -- and stood up, but not before Kaoru had wrapped his legs around him.

Inside Kaoru's bonboniere room, it was cool and quiet. The floorboards creaked as Kyouya walked across the floor, and when he reached the bed, he let Kaoru down with a soft thump. The moonlight lay printed on the covers in a grid of white and blue, and as Kaoru held on a little while longer than was necessary, he pulled Kyouya down with him and the two kissed some more.

"I'm quite proud of you, you know," Kyouya said, pulling away and smiling a bit. He noticed Kaoru's eyes were bigger and deeper than he remembered them in Japan or in Eze. 

"To be quite honest," he went on, "I had had my qualms, but I'm glad to have been wrong. Your friends don't seem like bad people."

Kaoru smiled, and gave a winsome, dimple-cheeked look. 

"Even Helene Tonnerre? She doesn't scare you?" The smile made him look like Marilyn Monroe.

"No, not at all."

Kaoru reached up and touched his face. 

"You're wonderful, you know that?"

He flopped onto his belly, and Kyouya reached out to touch the small of his back.

"I have something for you, by the way," he said.

"Oh? What is it?" Kaoru cocked his head.

"It's in my bag. I'll go get it."

Pressing down gently on Kaoru's back, Kyouya stood up. As he walked away, Kaoru buried his face in his forearms. 

All day long, his clothes had chafed him at the seams, and he'd felt like a big blimp taking up too much space. He'd wondered if the others had noticed -- his clothes fit more snugly now, though he estimated they could fit an extra five kilos of weight -- but with Hikaru there, the difference had seemed much more glaring.

He lay there in the same attitude until Kyouya came back, the floorboards heralding his arrival. The bed shifted under his weight, and Kaoru glanced up over his elbow.

"Lavender oil." Kyouya took a small flask from a box -- a glass globe for the decanter top. "I can give you a massage if you like. Lavender scent might have its flaws, but I understand it's meant to be quite soothing."

Kaoru smiled, and re-buried his face in his arms.

Kyouya watched him for a few moments, then shifted over to lie by his side: the bed was very small, and it enforced an added closeness. 

"Something wrong?" -- he placed a hand on Kaoru's back.

When no answer came, he placed the vial on the bedside table, and watched Kaoru puff his lips out with his breath. He released a measured breath of his own, and settled back against the headboard.

He waited.

He had no problem with waiting -- in fact, he'd grown accustomed to it.

With Kaoru, waiting did not feel like waiting.

"We can do whatever you want," he added, somewhat superfluously.

"You sure?" 

Kaoru opened his eye a crack, and the white appeared beneath his elbow. 

Kyouya gave a smile.

"Of course I am. I could have only an hour with you, and spend them all sitting in a room no larger than this bed, and still come out a happy man."

Kaoru shot him an affable look -- a little incredulous, a little coy, and punctuated the smile with a airy chuckle.

But Kyouya stared at him with all the import that his face could allow, and as time went by Kaoru's giggles had subsided into shakes, and he lay there smiling into his arms -- the wings of the scapulae rising and falling slightly.

He then sat up with a sudden energy, and leapt up -- striding over toward the window. 

Kyouya watched him step into the light and undo his belt. He then undid his shirt, and it fell from his shoulders onto the floor. 

The mirror on the commode gave off a pale, opalescent light, and Kaoru's form was like a chrysalis. He unzipped his fly and removed his pants.

Kyouya rose from the bed, and came up behind him. Kaoru's form glowed in the half-light, and as Kyouya put his arms around him, he placed his chin in the mother-of-pearl hollow between his clavicle and the neck.

They stood there for a moment -- Kaoru in the nude, Kyouya fully clothed, the latter's arms around the former.

"You're more than this, you know," Kyouya said. His hand ghosted over Kaoru's hip -- the edge a prow, its angle softened by a dusting of down. "You're more than your face and skin -- but then again, beauty is a rather poor investment, no?" 

He chuckled again, running his hand over a soft belly and thighs -- here, too, lay the slightest dusting of down, but when Kaoru stiffened, he dutifully drew away, and placed a chaste kiss in the indentation of his seashell.

Kaoru smiled. Sheepishly and reluctantly -- but smiled still.

"Well, not exactly," he said, tilting his head and pulling on a stray lock of hair. "My family deals in beauty, does it not? And with the right story, it can actually appreciate in value."

Kyouya paused, his lips in a thin line -- and chuckled softly, his mouth on the pearly shell. 

"As you will, too, I'm sure," he said.

And that was Kaoru in a nutshell. The rest of their friends were too easily swayed by his unflappable logic, but with Kaoru it was different… Kaoru was ready to spar at the oddest of moments -- and if his words detracted from the point, it only seemed to make him happy.

Kyouya kissed the shoulder again -- tracing a line with his moistened lips up the neck, and stopped to pay some extra mind to a vein, rising and ebbing beneath the surface.

The shadows of the room lengthened, but they did not seem to be hiding much.

"I mean, in the end, it's your mind and your character that make you who you are," he added, "And that make me love you for who you are… The way you handle yourself, the situations you find yourself in --"

They were looking in the same direction now, and the trees in the moonlight seemed to shine. 

"My character? Hmm."

Kaoru pondered.

He raised his eyes, but Kyouya continued to kiss -- up the gentle slope, to the fork where the jaw met the neck -- sucking in a mouthful of flesh. The pleasure between his legs was growing steadily, and as his hands hovered over Kaoru's "v" -- the younger boy tilted his head back and with his rosy lips let out a soundless "ahhh…"

For the first time, speaking felt redundant, yet as Kyouya ran his fingertips along Kaoru's hips, pressing them in with a possessorship he knew Kaoru would understand, he took the opportunity to turn his lover around, so his twin tubers were visible in the mirror.

He pinched each of them in turn.

"Besides," he said, playful arch gracing his lips. "You're looking at the issue from the wrong perspective."

…

It did not take long for them to end up in bed after that. Between the bracing smell of lavender and the way Kaoru's skin now moved, a little freer now underneath Kyouya's fingers -- it did not take long for the bed to start to creak beneath them and for Kyouya to cease to care -- for the walls were thick and the Rastignacs fast asleep behind them -- and so it was that the pants went the way of the shirt -- and the belts sang like a mosquito's zing in the air, and it was with a combination of lube and lavender oil that Kyouya had entered Kaoru.

And Kaoru was fabulous, just like he had been from the start -- for they were doing it facing in the same direction -- a position that was new and different for them -- but Kyouya knew that Kaoru was enjoying it immensely: for he was pushing back almost as hard as Kyouya pushed in, and his whole body vibrated with his touch, and a series of "ahh's" would escape every now and again with his exhales. And Kyouya, too, had kept his hand over Kaoru's mouth out of habit -- ready to choke out the sound at the first sign of footfalls -- but once or twice he did, and Kaoru ended up chomping on his fingers, and for some reason the feeling made him jealous -- along with the sight of Kaoru's skin in the light of the moon -- and he'd ended up thrusting all the harder.

Indeed, his other hand was below Kaoru's waist, and if it had been on his waist, he would have surely left a mark. But when Kaoru, shuddering, gave a cry, Kyouya held him off -- for his own climax was not yet imminent.

"Oh, God, Kyou--ya," Kaoru cried, struggled with the hand for his air. "You're much… bigger than I remembered you --"

"Oh, yeah?"

Squish -- slap -- slap -- squish --

"Yeah --"

Doing his due diligence with every stroke -- taking care to let his lover feel the full impact of his length -- Kyouya gave a supercilious chuckle. Kaoru's hips continued to spasm.

"I feel like I'm way too tight – I'm gonna --"

Kyouya's hand tightened on his throat.

"Don't come yet." 

Kaoru's muscles tightened, and he drew a breath. His muscles unclenched as he exhaled.

Kyouya paused for a breath, then resumed his thrusting -- letting his moves grow lazier with time. As he melded against Kaoru's form, he could feel that the latter was covered in sweat. 

"I lo--" Kaoru's voice creaked.

Kyouya pressed a kiss, comfortingly, on Kaoru's scalp as his hand grew wet.

"I love you too." 

Kissing his hair, he paused again until the twin's spasms had subsided, and he savored their intense communion just below the waist.

"Although," he added, speaking meditatively into the darkness. "I'm somewhat surprised you didn't find yourself a hot French boy to keep you loose while I was gone…"

Kaoru had ceased to shake, and for a moment, it was as if he hadn't heard him. At first, Kyouya had attributed it to a postcoital torpor, but as the seconds passed, he took him gently by the shoulder and shook it.

"Kaoru?"

"Get away! --"

Kaoru's voice had left little room for confrontation.

Without another word, Kyouya pulled away -- clenching his teeth as he sucked in a breath, a stinging pain making him flex his thighs. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, though. 

Kaoru sat up, stiffening as he did.

Breathing in and out a few times, he pulled himself up, and strode toward the window.

His face was calm -- frozen, but calm -- and his feet slapped against the floor. He stopped, leaning against the windowsill, and the light stopped on him as well, his skin a filigreed web.

"Kaoru --"

Kaoru stared into the street below.

"Kaoru, please. Come back to bed. You know I didn't mean anything by that."

Kaoru turned around. 

"Oh, you didn't mean anything by that." 

His lip frozen in an ugly scowl, he was naked, but seemed to have forgotten it.

"I'm sorry, Kaoru."

"Oh. I'm sure you are."

He spun around again, turning back to the street. Outside, the insides of a water pipe roiled and rattled. 

Kyouya sighed.

The seconds trickled past -- a wide and lonely river.

"You shouldn't joke about things like that," he heard Kaoru say. "You of all people." 

The urgency between his legs had subsided, and he nodded with a sigh. He closed his eyes.

"I know that, Kaoru. I know."

"You of all people."

"I know. I said I was sorry." 

He bit his tongue as he said it. 

He wasn't used to being so forthright.

"This isn't a joke, you know," Kaoru went on. His voice had an edge of anger in it now. "You know I don't want to go through that hell again --"

Kyouya opened his eyes. 

The aposiopesis hung heavy in the air, and in the cool dark night, Kaoru's face looked like a scar.

"I know that, Kaoru. I know." Kyouya sat up, and his head was dizzy. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

But Kaoru turned away, and his lips curled in an acrid smile. He stared wordlessly into the street, and as Kyouya got up, he drew his sheet around him.

He walked to stand behind his lover, and as he wrapped his arms around him and pressed his face into his neck, Kaoru did not resist him.

…

Kaoru would sleep very well that night -- that much Kyouya was sure of when he left him that evening. As he cracked open the door to the company apartment, he ran over the evening's events in his mind: the quarrel, the way they had made up -- through tentative words and more tentative touches, the way Kaoru had cried, sitting on the edge of the bed, and the way he had finally come to forgive him. As was always the case in such situations, Kyouya fought the impulse to overanalyze -- he knew that with Kaoru if he started he wouldn't stop, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't even characterize the situation to himself, which may have bothered him immensely at one point, but by now he had learned to be more ambivalent: for every moment that Kaoru gave was like a precious jewel -- meant to be taken out of its box and gazed at, time and again, to fully comprehend its beauty.

He pushed open the door -- the living room was empty and quiet, except for the young girl tiptoeing across the floor.

Aloise froze and gave a squeak. She had just her stockings on.

The Ootori chuckled, and with a fluid motion removed his glasses.

"Go on, go on," he waved his hand. "Today's your lucky day. I didn't have my contacts in." 

…

The gardens of Luxembourg had a peculiar, rolling quality on Sunday afternoons. The bower of trees formed a lattice overhead, and the Ootori and the Hitachiin walked, arm in arm, along the promenade. 

The pale crispness of the fall was just the weather to bring out Kaoru's brightness. He burned like a bright maple in the cold, and the gravel crunched satisfyingly underfoot, the fresh air nipping at their faces.

Kyouya wore his wool military coat, and Kaoru had on a tan corduroy sport coat. 

The people passed them by -- a little boy, chasing a dog; an old man, walking his dog; a young lady in a bright red coat talking briskly on her cell phone. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyouya watched them all -- watched their expressions as he kept his hand on Kaoru's arm, savouring the small yet potent joy of his presence.

"In fact, in the past I'd thought you were almost too thin," he commented casually, tracing the inside of Kaoru's hand with his thumb. "When you leaned forward, you could see the joints of your hips and your spine -- but now, your form is quite appetizing."

"Oh, please don't call it appetizing --" Kaoru snorted into his hand.

And Kaoru's laugh tipped the balance. Kyouya laughed as well. 

The woman on her phone was walking away, laughing now as well, and a set of children ran across the path, their high-pitched squeals filling the air. Kicking through the autumn leaves, they disappeared among the chestnuts.

A pair of old friends were sitting on a bench -- eschewing the green, spider-legged chairs that littered the park -- and were absorbed in conversation.

They came to the end of the walk, where it widened into an amphitheatre dotted with chairs. The Luxembourg palace lay just ahead, and the parapet was lined with vases full of chrysanthemums.

Kaoru gestured with his eyes.

"Look. Over there. That man's reading Nietzsche."

Kyouya glanced at where Kaoru had indicated. 

"Well. What do you know. Good eye."

"Yeah." Kaoru grinned. "Jeez, what a nerd. Nobody reads Nietzsche outside unless they want to be seen reading Nietzsche outside."

Kyouya shrugged. 

"Yes, I suppose. And yet, didn't I see you reading Sartre and Jung in the yard at school?"

Kaoru huffed.

"That was in middle school."

"Fair enough."

Kyouya shrugged. He took Kaoru's hand, and brought it up just shy of his lips.

"But you know," he added, taking a long draw from the hazel eyes. "Just so we're clear, I always knew it was you. You always had something philosophic to read -- Helene Cixous, for instance, or Michel Foucault. With Hikaru, it was always fiction or adventure."

Kaoru smiled.

"Yes. I was a pretentious ass, wasn't I?"

Kyouya pulled his hand as if in a dance, and drew him closer in.

"Perhaps. But I still want to kiss you right now."

A dimple formed at the side of Kaoru's mouth, and he his cocked his head. 

"Oh yeah? Here? In front of all these people?"

"Yes, right here." Kyouya nodded, and his face was grim. "And that includes the children."

"Hah." Kaoru reached out and, before touching Kyouya's cheek, tucked a hair-wisp behind his own. "That's funny. Who on earth are you, and what have you done with my Kyouya?"

The Ootori stiffened, but his eyes were kind.

"Time, I suppose," he answered. "Time took away that Kyouya." 

A child shrieked on the lawn, chasing another with a long red scarf. 

"And perspective. That helped too." 

He eyed the line of Kaoru's cheek -- which ended in a thick wool muffler. 

"And being here in Paris. That as well." 

He glanced at his lover's hand, massaging each knuckle in turn, and looked up at the yellow chrysanthemums.

And it was true, too. All day, it had been staggering just how much it didn't matter. They had been just another part of the scenery. And he knew that there were many ways he could serve his family, and not all of them involved living in Japan.

He shifted his weight between his feet, and brought his lover's hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss gingerly against it.

"Hmm, well. And here I thought you'd never come around." Kaoru smiled, and -- glancing up with a winsome look -- he took his lover's chin between his fingers. He slipped his other hand, Napoleon-style, underneath the flap of Kyouya's jacket.


End file.
